


All the While Shining

by clefairytea



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Figure Skater AU, Recovery, Yuri on Ice Mashup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clefairytea/pseuds/clefairytea
Summary: Lillie wasn’t permitted to compete in the junior figure skating championships until she was 14. She was still too clumsy by far, her mother said. A rock that had yet to be pressed into a diamond. She would embarrass the family. Expectations are high, after all, with your brother who he is, with your mother who she is. Best to stay off the ice until you’re stronger, my dear. It’s for your own good.So, when Gladion was taking home his first gold junior championship medal, Lillie was behind the barriers with her mother, watching.Yet it wasn’t her brother that held her attention during that final bout on the ice. What she couldn’t take her eyes off was the silver medal winner. A girl with short brown hair, accompanied on the ice by a Popplio.--In which Lillie is an anxious figure skater who just ran away from home, and Moon busts in declaring herself her new coach.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, have you ever wanted someone to mash up elements of Yuri!!! on Ice and Pokémon Sun and Moon and create a new story out of it? No? TOO BAD I'VE DONE IT ANYWAY. And don't worry, this story is very much it's own thing, not just YOI with the names changed.
> 
> That said, the temptation to just name it _Lillie!!! on Ice_ was overwhelming.
> 
> Fair warning - discussion of Lusamine being emotionally abusive. I don't think it strays any further from what's already established in canon, but suffice to say she is Not a Good Mother.

Lillie wasn’t permitted to compete in the junior figure skating championships until she was 14. She was still too clumsy by far, her mother said. A rock that had yet to be pressed into a diamond. She would embarrass the family. Expectations are high, after all, with your brother who he is, with your mother who she is. Best to stay off the ice until you’re stronger, my dear. It’s for your own good.

So, when Gladion was taking home his first gold junior championship medal, Lillie was behind the barriers with her mother, watching.

Take note of your brother’s poise, Lillie. The height of his jumps, the precision in every movement. He’ll go through this routine with you later. Try to commit it to memory now. One, two, here, this way, two rotations, three, you see?

Yet it wasn’t her brother that held her attention that final bout on the ice. What she couldn’t take her eyes off was the silver medal winner. A girl with short brown hair, accompanied on the ice by a Popplio.

“A wonderful programme,” Lusamine murmured into her ear, as the girl on the ice spun brilliantly, her Popplio leaping over her head in an elegant arc, “When it’s your debut, Lillie, you’d do well to be mindful of that girl as a potential competitor.”

All Lillie could think about was how widely the girl smiled the whole time.

 

Lillie wasn’t used to buying groceries alone. In fact, she wasn’t really used to buying anything alone. It was still, to her great embarrassment, more than a little overwhelming.

It wasn’t as though Hau’oli City was chaotic, or crowded, or any of that, it’s just that she’d never really done it before she moved in with the Professor. She always felt as though she fumbled with her change and her purchases too long, that she bought the wrong brand of this and the wrong type of that, and that she spent more than she should.

Yet if Kukui wasn’t going to accept rent money, she would damn well at least help out with the chores.

Still, she had no idea what sort of Pokémon food his Poliwhirl needed, and nothing on the shelves jumped out at her. Did Poliwhirl even eat? Should she just get fish food? Why didn’t she think to take a note before she left? Aaargh, she had only picked up two items so far and she’d been here twenty minutes and she’d _already_ messed this up and –

“Lillie!?”

Lillie dropped the packet she was holding on the floor, scattering little pellets everywhere. She turned to see a boy around her age with his dark hair in a ponytail and a pair ice-skates dangling around his neck, a Raichu floating by his side. He was one of the competitors at the senior figure skating championships in Lumiose last year, and just that thought is enough to make her freeze up.

“It is you! Alola!” the boy continued, “Remember me? Hau! We were both in the semi-finals last year?”

“Oh, um,” Lillie said, crouching down to pick up the Pokémon food from the floor, tilting her hat to better hide her face, “Well, yes, that’s –“

“Yeah! It’s a shame you didn’t reach the podium –“ (Lillie resisted the desire to just drop down and lay face-down in the middle of the aisle at the reminder.) “- but you and your Clefairy were great! I mean, uh, up until that last free skate…”

Hau trailed off, suddenly awkward. Lillie pressed her lips together. The silence drags on for just a second too long before Hau pipes up, even louder and more cheerful than before.

“So! What brings you to Hau’oli City?”

“Oh, err, I moved here recently,” she replied, pretending to be very interested in the back of a tin of Pokémon chow, “I’m staying with the Professor.”

“Woah, old Kukui? Is he coaching skaters now?” he asked, putting his hands behind his head, “You know, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you at the rink at the community centre. Though, tutu makes me go crazy early to practice, so we probably just miss each other, right?”

“Uh, well…” Lillie said, wondering how she could possibly admit she hasn’t set foot on the ice since the last tournament. It’s not like she’s _retired_ , exactly. Not officially, it’s just. Well.

_I expected better from you, Lillie. After your brother, I thought you’d try harder, at least for my sake, if not your own._

She had just never worked up the nerve to go back.

“Hey, I got an idea! I’m heading there now,” Hau interrupted her train of thought, grinning, “I just stopped in for a mid-training snack, and then I’m gonna practice some jumps. Want to come with? You can rent skates there. They don’t stink too bad.”

She meant to say no. The idea of showing her sloppy, unpractised form on the ice to a bronze medallist should, really, be too much to bear.

Yet it’s been so _long_. Her hand went to Clefairy’s Pokéball, in the front pocket of her handbag, and felt it it wobble warm against her palm.

“Sure,” she said instead, smiling.

 

Hau had a reputation on the ice – all his performances are fast, energetic. High jumps with lots of spins, and less than perfect execution. He touched down frequently, flubbed landings often, and his social media followers were frequently graced with sheepish, grinning selfies of himself in hospital, his arm in a sling or his leg in a cast. His Pokémon tended to be odd choices as well – who brought an Alolan Raichu or an Incineroar onto the ice? – but he always had great chemistry with them. Even if the choreography itself tended to be…eccentric.

Gladion _hated_ him, but Lillie’s always quite liked his performances. And as a person, Hau was one of the sweetest men you’d ever have the good fortune to meet.

Nevertheless, his less-than-precise execution meant that he only made it to the finals once, two years ago, and through more luck than skill, had squeaked onto the lowest spot on the podium.

It had been sort of funny to see. Gladion had stood next to him, scowling and turning his gold medal back and forth between his fingers, and then there was Hau, beaming with his bronze medal in hand, his expression suggesting that he was taking home the gold.

Lille couldn’t judge, though. After all, she’d never even managed to make the podium once.

She leaned against the barrier, watching Hau turning on the ice. He’s gotten better, since she’d last seen him perform. He still flubbed landings, occasionally over-rotated, but his energy was as infectious as ever.

Very few people, Lillie thought, could have as much fun out there as Hau does.

“I saw your short performance, last year,” a deep voice said beside her. She jumped, broken out of her thoughts. She glanced up to see a large man smiling down at her, his white hair pulled into a ponytail, and most of his face covered with a bushy beard and moustache. He had the same nose as Hau, she noticed.

“Oh?” she squeaked, the bottom dropping out of her stomach.

“You and your Clefairy worked together beautifully,” he said, and then thrust out a hand, “Hala! Melemele’s Kahuna, and grandfather and coach to that little ball of energy out there. You’re Lillie Aether, correct?”

“Yes, I, uh –“ she spluttered, and then bowed so low her hat fell off her head, “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Hala stared, and then burst out laughter.

“Ha, manners! Nice to see. Maybe you can rub off on Hau a little,” he said, hands on his hips. Lillie rubbed the back of her neck, a blush creeping up her neck.

“Hau has nice manners,” she replied, sounding lame even to herself.

“Oh yes, and a sharp tongue and a pushy nature,” he replied. They were interrupted by the hiss of skates on ice, and a hard thump as Hau hit the barrier.

“Hey, what are you two talking about?” he said, still grinning, “Don’t listen to a word he says, Lillie! Tutu’s a big liar.”

“Hau, you’re still over-rotating your jumps. What have I told you? Precision! Patience!” Hala said, as though Hau hadn’t said anything. Hau rolled his eyes, looking so much like a certain sulky teenage boy Lillie had known that she had to giggle into her hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, tutu,” he said, clearly not listening to a word. He returned his attention to Lillie, beaming, “Hey, Lillie, don’t you want a turn?”

“Oh, uh, I’m a little out of practice…” she said, looking at the scuffed skates on her feet – rented, not professional standard at all. Still looked strange on her feet.

“Don’t be silly! You’re Lusamine Aether’s daughter – you’re a pro!” Hau said, oblivious to the lance he just sent through Lillie’s gut. His gaze softened, tilting his head, “Besides, I always liked watching you skate.”

Lillie bit down on her lower lip for a second, and then turned to grab Clefairy’s ball from her bag. She released him with a flash of light, and crouched down.

“Hey. How do you feel about having some time on the ice?” she asked, voice low. Clefairy looked up at her, and then sang a cheerful note, ears twitching. She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and picked up her hat.

“Um, would one of you mind holding this?” she asked. Hau stepped out of the rink and took her hat from her, as she stepped onto the ice, breathing in deeply.

She glanced down at Clefairy as she reached the centre of the ice.

“You remember that one programme, the only one mother _didn’t_ teach us?” she muttered. Clefairy nodded, and took his starting position.

Lillie felt herself smile, and stretched her arms above her head. It was strange, performing the programme without music, but she’d practised it so long, that even after this long every movement felt natural, like the music played inside her own head.

It was not the type of music she had ever been permitted to skate to. It was loud and in-your-face and _there_ without any apology. Lillie would never have the courage to skate to anything like that for real.

Clefairy weaved around her, sweeping patterns around her feet. She picked up speed, hit the first jump, spinning high and then hitting the ice with a _clack_. She heard Clefairy land too, trotters hitting the ice. Lillie had forgotten to spray his feet – he’d be running slower than usual, but that didn’t matter. This was just for them.

The jump sequence was coming up, her favourite part of the whole programme. She lowered herself, picking up speed, and then sprang up, her toes pointed, her arms stretched high above her head. She landed, but there was no time to hesitate, she took to the air again, a treble, a double, another double, and then she was sweeping across the ice, laughing, her hair sweeping out behind her.

She turned, arms spread, sweeping out in circle, and then back to the centre, spinning, and then she stopped, head back, fingers splayed, breathing heavy, in and out. Clefairy slowly came to land between her feet, an iridescent trail following him.

“Woooooo, yeah!” Hau yelled, bouncing up and down at the barrier, his phone held above his head. Next to him, Hala smiled and beat his hands together steadily. Lille dropped her pose, flushing scarlet, and let out a nervous giggle as she skated across to where they stood, waiting for her.

“That was Moon’s free skate programme – from her gold Junior Grand Prix win, right?” Hau asked, scratching his Raichu behind the ear.

“Yeah. I know it’s not very, you know…me,” Lillie said, her face still hot, “But I always loved that programme.”

“Come on, it suits you just fine,” Hau replied, and then reached over the barrier to loop an arm around her shoulders, holding out his phone, “C’mon, selfie! Smile, Lillie!”

 

Lillie had to admit, it had felt good to get back out on the ice again. As she prepared dinner that evening, preparing halloumi and slicing tomato for burgers, she found herself daydreaming about doing it properly. Kukui couldn’t be a real coach – how could he, he knew absolutely nothing about skating  – but maybe she could convince Hala to take her on alongside Hau. He seemed to like her. Although he had probably just being nice…urgh.

Yeah. That was it. There was no way he saw that awful short programme she’d stumbled through last year and honestly liked it. It had been the lowest score her family had ever received! Disgraceful. Sloppy. Clumsy.

There was not a chance in hell he would agree to take her on as a student. Her own mother had barely been able to stomach the idea of coaching her again after last year.

Lillie looked down at her dinner, her hunger suddenly blocked by gripping cramps.

Biting down on her lip, she covered the plate with cling film, so Kukui could have it for dinner when he got home, and decided to head to bed early.

 

It was mid-morning when Lillie woke up, roused by the sound of Kukui running around with his Rockruff downstairs, him yelling out moves and Rockruff cheerfully and destructively acquiescing. She groaned, sitting up, and grabbed her glasses from the bedside table.

If she was heading out, she’d usually put in contact lenses, but she’d gotten into the habit of just wearing her glasses around the lab. She barely even put on make-up these days. Mother would be beside herself if she could see what Lillie looked like lately.

She grabbed her phone from where she’d dropped it on the bookshelf, tapping it awake with a yawn.

_1391 notifications._

What.

She tapped it open, heart hammering, almost expecting some scathing messages from her mother, more angry emails from her fans, pleading emails from Gladion’s fans, whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

_Hau Nuuhiwa has added you as a friend!_

Well, that was nice. There was the selfie he’d taken of them – she had looked almost okay there, she was glad she had at least put foundation and blusher on that morning – and then…

_Hau Nuuhiwa tagged you in a video: Lillie Aether performs Moon Asada’s short programme!_

Lillie really didn’t mean to make a noise. She certainly didn’t mean to make a noise loud enough to bring Kukui clambering up the ladder to her room.

“Lillie! Lillie! What’s wrong!”

She didn’t reply, just goggled at all the views and comments and all the messages she’d received because of it. She thrust her phone towards Kukui, not trusting herself to speak.

Kukui just grinned, touching the rim of his cap.

“Hey, look at that! You look great out there,” he said.

“Great?” Lillie squeaked, her voice much louder than she’d anticipated, “No, no, this is awful! I can’t have this floating about, it’s embarrassing. And, oh, if mother sees this…oh, she’ll be furious. She’ll know where I _am_.”

Kukui’s grin vanished – the idea that Lusamine would see this video clearly hadn’t occurred to him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, grounding her.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. Just message Hau and ask him to take the video down. Hau’s a great guy, he’ll do it,” he said, voice uncharacteristically slow and careful, “There’s no way she could tell where you are – that could be any community centre in Alola! And even if she could, I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?”

Lillie blinked hard, her fingers clenched into tight fists as she forced herself to breathe in and out. It was ridiculous, needing Kukui to talk to her like she was a frightened little child. She was almost 20 years old, for goodness’ sakes!

She swallowed, finding her voice again.

“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry,” she said, rubbing her eyes, and then smiled, “I’ll message Hau right away. Sorry for making a fuss.”

“Hey, nothing to apologise for, cousin!” he said, back to being as loud and cheerful as ever, “Now, how about I scramble us some eggs for breakfast, huh?”

“That would be nice,” she said, as she drafted a message to Hau.

 

**OMG.**

**I’m so sorry, Lillie. D: I had no idea!!! I’ll take the photo and vid down RIGHT NOW.**

**I need to make it up to you…**

**Malasadas? ^o^ I’ll pay!!**

What are malasadas?

**:OO!!!!!!!!!!!!**

 

“You grew up in Alola, right?”

“My entire life,” Lillie said, examining the doughy treat, the sugar sticky against her fingers. Beside her in the booth, Clefairy looked equally as sceptical. Hau and Raichu had already devoured their portions and ordered seconds.

“Then how have you never had a malasada before!”

“Oh, my family always ate very healthily,” she said, “We never had fast food or dessert, aside from on birthdays. Our family chef used to prepare everything –“

“ _Family chef?”_ Hau spluttered, staring at her with wide eyes. Lillie felt her cheeks heat up. Yes, she remembered, that was a thing normal people did not grow up with. She couldn’t believe she could still forget. Hau leaned back in his chair and let out a low, appreciate whistle.

“Sheesh, I knew your family were loaded. I didn’t know you were _that_ loaded,” he said.

“My great-grandmother founded the Aether Foundation,” she said, embarrassed to be talking about it, “There’s…well, there’s been a lot of time for inheritance to build up, by the time it reached my father.”

“That’s _crazy_ ,” Hau said, shaking his head, “So, any chance I could visit your place some time? I’ve always wanted to see a real-life millionaire mansion!”

Lillie exchanged a tense glance with Clefairy.

“So what flavour are these again?” she asked, picking up a malasada.

If she was completely honest with herself, she didn’t expect that to work, but Hau instantly launched into a passionate description of the malasada flavours, completely abandoning the previous conversation.

Eventually, he talked Lillie into trying a custard one. She had to admit, even though she could practically feel the calories burning through her entire body, it was pretty good.

Lillie was midway through a chocolate flavoured one, happily listening to Hau chatter on about his grandfather, how practice was going lately for him, when they were interrupted by the tinkle of the bell above the door.

She looked up, and almost forgot how to breathe. A young man her age was striding towards them, glowering at them both. His blonde hair had been shaved on one side, his bangs cut short as though clumsily with a pair of blunt scissors, over the sink in a motel room.

“Gladion?” she said, a piece of malasada falling out of her mouth.

“What are you _wearing_?” Hau blurted out, not even bothering to restrain his laughter. Lillie had to admit – Gladion looked as though he’d just fallen into an emo teenager’s wardrobe and put on whatever he came out with. If the situation was different, she’d probably tease him for that. As it was, all she could do was gawp at him.

Gladion ignored Hau’s comment, his gaze completely fixed on Lillie. It was only then Lillie noticed the two people Gladion had came in with – gangly teenagers with brightly dyed hair, and Team Skull kerchiefs obscuring their faces. The poor staff at the counter visibly deflated at the sight of them.

“You’re really here,” he said, folding his arms, “I didn’t think I believed it until I saw the video this idiot put online.”

“And you’re really running around with Team Skull,” she replied. Mother had said as much, after Gladion had ran away, but Lillie hadn’t really believed it. It was easy to believe that Gladion had wanted to escape Lusamine’s increasingly gruelling training regimes – less easy to believe he’d ran off and joined a gang. At least, not until the evidence was staring her in the face.

Gladion glanced behind him, where the Team Skull members were threatening the long-suffering staff with a long and very poorly executed rap. He didn’t exactly look thrilled to be there with them.

“In a manner of speaking,” he said, “More importantly, what are _you_ doing here?”

“I was looking for _you!_ ” she blurted out, “Gladion, I’ve been worried sick since you left! You didn’t tell me anything, a-and Mother, she just got _worse_ when you abandoned us.”

Hau glanced between them, eyes wide. Lillie winced; she really hadn’t intended to drag her new friend into her family drama. Besides, it wouldn’t do to talk about mother’s…problems, so openly, in a public place. She still had a reputation to uphold, after all. After Lillie had damaged it so thoroughly last year, she could at least not make it any worse.

Gladion covered his face with a hand, pushing his uneven bangs back.

“Well, I’m at least glad you got away from her. And you’re staying somewhere safe, you’re eating?”

Lille was bewildered by the swerve in this conversation.

“What? Yes, of course, I’m fine. Wait, I mean, that’s not the point. Gladion, I’ve been looking for –“

Gladion shook his head, clearly not listening. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“That’s good enough for me. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself again, and _don’t_ come looking for me,” he said, and then strode out, snapping an order at the two Team Skull members (still trying and failing to get free malasadas) as he left. Lillie opened and closed her mouth, stunned into silence.

A _year_ of absolutely nothing, and that was it? That was the only thing he’d say to her? She didn’t even know how to react to that.

“Jeez, he’s as much of a ball of sunshine as ever,” Hau said through a mouthful of malasada, “When’d he get the makeover, though?”

“I – I don’t know,” she said. She had been wondering that herself.

 

On the one hand, Lillie was beyond relieved that Gladion was okay. He’d looked even paler and skinnier than when he left – and that was saying something – but at least he was in one piece, and if he was with Team Skull he probably had somewhere to sleep and eat.

Yet he was with _Team Skull._ She knew they weren’t really the notorious, blood-thirsty gangsters that Mother had always painted them as, but they were still criminals. Her brother was running around with _criminals,_ doing who-knows-what to survive.

In the back of her head, the plan had been to try to get him to move in with her. Maybe not with Kukui – she’d already imposed so much – but they were family, and maybe together they could find somewhere to stay themselves. Maybe they could go and face mother together, make her…different, somehow. Back to the way she was before their father died. Get her some much-needed help. Once all of that was fixed, Gladion could return to his skating career, and they could all go home and everything would go back to normal.

“Yeah, right,” she said to herself in the mirror, sounding just like her brother. She was day-dreaming, as always. She sighed and wiped her make-up off, giving her face a quick splash of cold water. She sighed, taking her contacts out and popping her glasses back on, and tugging her hair up into a ponytail.

What, really, had she expected? She’d ran away from the home with no money, no plan. Just her Clefairy, an embarrassing skating career, and an incredibly vague notion of finding her brother.

A brother that, it turned out, didn’t want to be found.

What was she going to do _now_?

Usually, if she was worried, she’d go skate, but after that video last night, she didn’t really want to return to the community centre any time soon.

She’d go for a run, she decided. Running along the beach was always relaxing. Besides, she felt as though she could use the exercise – those malasadas were sitting heavily in her stomach. She changed into her exercise clothes and clambered down the ladder to the ground floor. There was a note pinned to the fridge, held up by a magnet shaped like the Bellsprout Tower in Johto.

**Lillie!**

**Don’t fret about this, but some people dropped by this morning, asking for you. They looked like they were trying to hide it, but they were definitely Aether Institute.  I told them I didn’t know where you were and sent them packing.**

**Don’t sweat it, alright? Me and Burnet are gonna come home tonight and talk about it, alright? We’ll come up with a plan!! :)**

**\- Prof K**

Immediately, she found herself wishing she hadn’t noticed it. She swallowed the lump of anxiety swelling in her chest, and put her earbuds in. Forget it, don’t think about it.

Time to just run.

The beach was quiet as Lillie stepped out onto the sand. The local trainers tended to go home before sunset – that was when Team Skull started prowling around. Lillie personally wasn’t worried - Team Skull always gave her a wide berth. Perhaps now she understood why.

She ran, her breath coming out in huffs. She wasn’t in the same shape as she’d been last Grand Prix, that was for sure.

Yet it felt good, to move properly. She’d spent the last few weeks doing barely anything aside from hanging around in the lab, cleaning or reading or, if she was honest with herself, sulking.

It had felt better, though, to be back on the ice.

She wished she’d asked Hau for a copy of that video before taking it down.

She wished she’d at least watched it all the way through.

Maybe it had even been good.

She slammed face-first into someone and fell backwards, smacking up a coarse cloud of sand, her earphones dragged out of her ears and her phone slipping out of her pocket.

“Oh! Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Lillie spluttered, sitting up and readjusting her glasses.

The figure turned to her – it was a woman. She was short, but tanned and muscular, wearing a floral bikini, the kind Lillie would rather die than wear, and a huge pair of sunglasses. Her dark hair poked out from under the brim of her hat in two short braids.

On seeing her, she pulled off her sunglasses and grinned brilliantly, and Lillie was certain she was hallucinating.

“Lillie!” Moon said, crouching down to grab her hands and pull her to her feet, “I found you!”

“M-me?” Lillie spluttered.

“Of course!” she replied, and then clasped her hands tighter around Lillie’s, staring into her eyes with an intensity that made Lillie feel immediately overwhelmed, “I’m here to be your new coach.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lillie really didn’t know how she’d ended up in this position.

Of all the scenarios she’d ever imagined herself in, sitting around the dinner table with Moon Asada, the girl she’d grown up admiring and the only woman to even come close to sweeping her mother’s gold medal out from under her, with Professor Kukui and Professor Burnet, tucking into a sweet potato chilli was not one of them.

Moon ate like someone who had been starved for weeks, and chattered like someone who hadn’t had human contact for the past year. It seemed like she knew Kukui and Burnet. As soon as Lillie had brought her home, having had little idea what else to do, the three of them had been hugging and greeting each other like old friends.

Lille knew  for a fact that neither Kukui or his wife followed skating – they had barely even known who her mother was, for goodness sakes – so it was beyond her how they knew each other, but she was far too overwhelmed and confused to even ask.

Moon Asada had flown all the way from Kanto, taken a hiatus from her shining career, and had declared that she wanted to be Lillie’s coach for the upcoming season.

It was far too much to take in. She didn’t even know where to start.

“So, do you have anywhere to stay, or do you want to crash on the couch, hm, cousin?” Kukui asked. Moon smiled, leaning back on her chair. She glanced at Lillie, very quickly. It was a strange, inquiring look, and Lille didn’t know what to make of it.

“Well, I can always book a room at Hau’oli, but I was hoping you’d let me crash for the night. The jet lag is  _killing_  me right now,” she said.

“I can barely tell,” Burnet laughed, “You’re as energetic as ever.”

“Of course I am, I’m half delirious,” Moon replied, making both Kukui and Burnet laugh. Lillie couldn’t find it in her to laugh – she could only stare, her eyes bugging out of her head.

She had been in jogging pants. And an old Sailor Moon t-shirt. No make-up. She had crashed straight into Moon, as though she hadn’t been able to see her. And now she couldn’t even bring herself to say anything.

This was the most she’d ever interacted with Moon properly. This.

Lillie wanted to clamber straight up the ladder, crawl into bed, pull her quilt over her head, and then never talk to another human being for as long as she lived.

“Course you can!” Kukui said, “You can take my bed for the night, I’ll go stay with my beautiful wife.”

“Shush, you,” aforementioned beautiful wife replied, smiling a little behind her glass of water, “So, Moon, what brings you back to Alola? I thought you were, ah, a skater now, like Lillie?”

“Ha, well, that’s kind of what it is,” Moon replied, resting her chin on her hand, “I’m taking a hiatus myself, and I’m here to work as Lillie’s coach for the upcoming season.”

“Well that’s great news! Didn’t even know you two knew each other,” Kukui said, clapping his hands together. Lillie opened her mouth to say that they didn’t, not really, that she didn’t know why on earth any of this was happening, that this surely had to be some kind of elaborate joke or bizarre mistake, when Burnet interrupted her.

“I didn’t know Lillie had formally decided to go back to skating,” she said, very carefully. She looked at Lillie, her gaze warm, silently assuring her that there was no pressure, that anything she said right now would be alright.

Lillie found her voice, finally.

“I haven’t, um. Not yet, anyway,” she said, trying to ignore the way Moon’s face fell at her words, “I’m still thinking about it.”

Kukui looked equally as crestfallen. That was a little easier to not take personally – Kukui sort of reacted to everything as though it was the biggest deal in the world. Lillie was used to it by now. Moon’s kicked-puppy face was much more difficult to ignore.

“I figured you were practicing again – I thought Hau’s coach had maybe agreed to take you in,” Moon said, clearly confused.

Lillie flushed. Oh.

That.

Had that silly video  _really_  been what made Moon cross half the planet to find her? It was too ludicrous for words.

“That was just, well, for fun,” she said, shrugging. The four of them fell silent, the awkwardness so thick Lillie felt she would choke on it if they sat in it for much longer.

Thankfully, Burnet finally broke the silence, clearing her throat as she and Kukui stood to clear away the dishes.

“Moon, you should probably get some sleep, right? Jetlag?” she said. Moon brightened up, the smile much more forced than it had been previously.

“Oh, yeah, of course!” she said, and then added what sounded like an enormously fake yawn, “So, maybe tomorrow you could show me around the area, Lillie?”

“Y-yes,” Lillie said, because what else could she say, “Of course.”

 

Lillie was sure she could hear Moon snoring from Kukui’s room downstairs. Of course, unless Moon was the loudest snorer in the history of time, that was ridiculous. Yet still, the thought of her in the room below her was enough to keep Lillie lying with her eyes wide open on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Beside her, Clefairy snuggled into her arm, ears twitching in his sleep.

She carefully reached down to her phone, lying on the floor, and tapped it awake. It was twelve minutes past 2 in the morning.

In a few hours, Moon would be up, and Lillie would have to entertain her, and moreover they’d have to actually  _talk_  about what Moon came here for.

She sighed, letting her phone drop back to the floor, and curled her arm back around Clefairy.

She had no idea what to do. And, for once, there was nobody around to tell her.

 

“Goooood morning, Lillie!” Moon greeted her as she climbed down the ladder to the ground floor. She sat cross-legged on the couch with Kukui’s Murkrow in her lap, her hair tugged up into a messy bun, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. There was a cup of coffee on the counter by the kitchenette waiting for Lillie, laid out with a small jug of milk, a tiny stack of sugar cubes, and a stirring spoon.

Lillie popped a few white cubes and a glug of milk into her coffee. She looked briefly at the couch, before decided the last thing Moon needed so early in the morning was Lillie, with her morning breath, messy hair, and baggy pyjamas, eating into her personal space.

“So what are we doing today?” Moon asked after a moment, after Lillie had managed to blink the sleep out of her eyes and drain a few gulps of coffee.

“Oh, um, can’t say I’ve thought about it –“

“Don’t you have a daily routine? Exercise, practice, chore, studies?” Moon asked, her tone incredulous.

“Not really…” Lillie said, her voice very small. When she had moved in, Kukui and Burnet had just told her to take her time, find her feet. She hadn’t really known what that meant, so mostly she just made it up day-to-day. She did some chores, went for a run now and then, and she picked up a book now and then, sure, but a routine? Not really.

Moon stared at her.

“If you want to win gold at the Grand Prix this year, you’ll need to get back to practising every day.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to,” Lillie said. She intended it to be a reprimand, but it came out far feebler than she intended, pathetically indecisive.

An awkward silence fell between them, and Lille hid her face behind her coffee, her stomach churning. She really hadn’t agreed to anything. Sure, she hadn’t officially declared hiatus or retirement, but she equally hadn’t said she was going back.

She’d thought about it, of course. She couldn’t imagine how fantastic it would feel to be on that podium, at long last. Even ice-skating again, professionally or not, would be an improvement.

“Lillie!” called a loud cheerful voice, as the front door burst open. Hau charged in, his Leafon loping gracefully after him. Moon stood up, eyes wide.

Hau turned on his heel, caught sight of her, and his own eyes widened.

“Oh, Hau, this is –“

Before Lillie could finish her statement, the two of them were shrieking and crashing into each other in a big hug, Moon lifting the taller boy off his feet.

“Oh, so…you two have met…?” Lillie asked weakly, feeling stupid. Of course they knew each other, they had both stood on the podium at their respective Grand Prix events before. Moon at her countless gold medal junior wins, and then at her consecutive silver medal adult wins. Hau, hefting his bronze medal above his head two years ago.

“Met?” Moon said, putting Hau down and looping an arm around Hau’s shoulders, “I took on the island challenge with this guy!”

Lillie stared, her jaw dropping open.

“Wh-what?”

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t know!” Hau said, licking at his ice cream cone as they walked along Hau’oli Beach, “Popplio is one of Alola’s most famous native Pokémon. Where do you think she got her Primarina from?”

Lillie flushed, taking a scoop of her frozen yogurt.

“I – well, I only knew her as one of Kanto’s most famous skaters,” she said, shaking her head, “I didn’t think for a second she could be an accomplished trainer as well.”

“’Accomplished’ is maybe putting it a bit strong,” Moon replied, rubbing the back of her head, “I quit my challenge before getting the last stamp.”

“Pssht, you could have finished it if you wanted to,” Hau said, waving a hand dismissively, “You and your brother were seriously a force of nature. How is Sun, anyhow?”

“Oh, you know,” Moon said, “He’s Sun.”

Hau and Moon laughed at that oblique statement, leaving Lillie completely lost. She stirred her melting frozen yogurt with her spoon, finding her appetite suddenly waning. She should have really known that much about Moon, being such a supposed fan of hers. It was just another way in which she really knew very little of the world outside of skating. And that was a very small world indeed.

“He’s back home in Kanto, training under Agatha,” she said, “He wants to be a gym leader, eventually.”

Hau let out a low, appreciative whistle.

“No kidding? He’d be great at that,” Hau said, “The poor kids who try to get a badge from him, though…”

Moon laughed again, and the two began talking about their time on the island challenge, reminiscing over Totem Pokémon battles, the weird puzzles they had to solve as part of their trials, and the brutal battles with the Kahunas. Lillie quietly followed, trying to nod and smile at the right parts, feeling quite lost.

“So, did you ever take the Island Challenge, Lillie?” Moon asked, smiling at her. Lillie squirmed under her gaze.

“No. Not really,” she said, “My only Pokémon is Clefairy, and, well…all I’ve ever really done is skate, so…”

“Wait, only Clefairy?” Hau interrupted, furrowing his brow, “I’ve seen you skate with loads of different Pokémon before!”

Lillie winced. Well. This was embarrassing.

“Er. All my mother’s, honestly. Clefairy is the only one who really belongs to me, and even he’s my mother’s Clefable’s son,” she said, and then brightened up, “I raised him from an egg.”

“Ha, no wonder you’re so close!” Hau said brightly, not looking remotely disappointed that Lillie had been using her mother’s Pokémon in competitions for years. Lillie glanced at Moon, hoping for the same cheerful acceptance. Her expression was pensive, serious.

Lilie swallowed. Moon probably thought her an enormous cheat, now. A fraud. Every other skater trained their own Pokémon, not relying on loans from ridiculously more talented family members.

Hau, oblivious to the tension, crunched down the rest of his ice cream cone, and then grabbed Lillie and Moon’s arms, eyeing them with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, Moon. How are your Mantine surfing skills?”

 

As it turned out, Moon’s Mantine surfing skills were still surprisingly sharp, despite her protests that she hadn’t done it in years. Lillie sat on the beach as Moon leapt from the edge of a wave, performing rapid twists and flips in the air, before landing with a white spray of water. Hau whirled around her, laughing so loudly that Lillie could hear it over the crash and hiss of the sea.

Lillie tugged her knees towards her chest, bare toes wriggling against the hot sand. She wondered if it was strange, being born and raised in Alola, and having never surfed in her life. Mother had never really liked her spending her time on “frivolities”, as she called them. It was either her mother’s heritage as an ice skater, or her father’s heritage as the head of the Aether Foundation. Never anything else. And after her father died, only one.

She tried to brighten up as Moon returned to the store, grinning and dripping in her wet suit.

“Lillie! Do you want a go?” Moon said, gesturing to the Mantine waiting by the shore, smiling vacantly at her.

“Oh, uh, I’d rather not,” she said, gripping the strap of her bag, “I wouldn’t even know where to start!”

“Come on, with your balance and poise, you’d be a natural,” Moon said, dropping next to her and looping an arm around her waist. Lillie jumped, and scrambled away.

“Ah – ah, hahaha. You’re wet, sorry, don’t, just, uh, it’s just because you’re wet! Don’t want to get wet!” she spluttered. Moon blinked, and then rubbed a hand through her hair.

“Ha, yeah, guess I am. Sorry!” she said. Across from them, Hau tumbled off his Mantine and hit the water with a splash, disappearing under a wave. After a moment, his head emerged, his ponytail damp and sticking to the back of his neck as he laughed, swimming back to grab onto Mantine and hoist himself back onto its back.

“I didn’t know you were a trainer,” Lillie said, watching Hau training.

“Ha, used to be. Kind of changed my mind halfway through,” Moon replied, towelling off her hair.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Lillie continued, resting her cheek on her knees and glancing across at Moon.

“Ha! Yeah. Me, him, and Hau travelled all over Alola, when we were like eleven or something,” she said, wrapping her hair in the towel and sitting up, “It was pretty fun…travelling, facing down the kahunas, seeing all of Alola, just...that freedom! You never experience anything like that again!”

Lillie sucked down on her lip, not having much to say about that. Moon looked at her, eyes wide.

“Hey, wait, no, uh. I didn’t mean to bum you out,” she said, “I mean, you were training for your career back then, you didn’t have time to screw around having dumb Pokémon battles.”

Her career. Right.

There was a yelp and a splash as Hau fell off his Mantine again, trying to do some kind of complicated flip. They watched as he emerged again, this time ignoring Mantine and opting to swim to the shore. He shook himself off and then rushed towards them, a thread of dark seaweed looped across his forehead.

“Hey, I’ve gotta head to the ice rink soon for practice. Do you guys wanna come?”

Yes, Lillie thought.

“No,” she said, “Uh, I mean, I should –“

Moon seized her hand, and dragged them both to their feet.

“Of course we do,” she said.

Lillie wished she could argue, but the chance to see Moon practice up close was far too good to pass.

 

“Oh.”

“I…thought you said you had practice,” Moon said, staring as a bunch of kids made their awkward way around the rink, clinging to the barriers and slipping. Teachers and parents loitered around the barriers, some holding hot drinks or hot dogs, and some in the stands. There was one older kid, maybe an older brother, sitting with his feet up on the chair in front of him, and his hood tugged over his head. It was more packed in the ice rink than Lillie wagered it had been in months.

“I did! I – oooh,” Hau said, and then laughed, “Wow, okay. So, the other week tutu told me to start booking the ice rink for myself, starting from today. Aaaand…”

“You forgot,” Moon finished, deadpan. Hau grinned at her, scratching his jaw with a finger.

“Whoops. Wow, tutu is gonna be  _maaaaad_ ,” he replied. As if on cue, Hala came striding up behind them.

“Hau,” he said, tone flat and dangerous. He folded his arms. Hau just wheeled around, and gave his grandfather a sheepish grin.

“Whoopsy daisy,” he said.

“Hau, we’ve  _talked_  about how important it is you practice every day,” Hala said, glowering down at his grandson. Lillie winced. Hau was tall, and not a weedy guy by any stretch of the imagination, but Hala was much larger.

Hau only laughed.

“Hey, c’mon, we can practice like this,” he said. Hala looked at all the children on the ice. It looked like a class of elementary school students on a field trip, all in matching uniforms. They weren’t even old enough to have their trainer licenses yet.

“That…doesn’t seem likely,” Lillie said. With this many kids skidding around in slow, clumsy circles, no professional skater could hope to get some worthwhile practice. And being the only ice rink on Melemele, there was no chance of finding anywhere else to practise on such short notice. Alola wasn’t really a place with an enormous amount of opportunities for young skaters. Lillie had gotten lucky, considering her mother owned her own personal ice rink on Aether Island.

Moon tapped her chin with a finger, expression thoughtful. Before Lillie could ask what was going through her head, she darted off to the DJ box by the rink. Lillie couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but she saw the DJ and Moon have a conversation, saw them laugh. Quickly enough, Moon darted back, and grabbed Lillie’s hands.

“Hey, do you know Liza and Tate’s 2012 short programme?” she asked.

Lillie blinked. Of course she did. Everyone did – they had set the pairs junior figure skating world record with that performance. Mother made her and Gladion practice it, over and over. Unsure where this was going, she nodded. Moon’s face brightened up.

“Great,” she said, “Let’s do it.”

“N-now?” Lillie spluttered.

“I told the DJ who I was. Who you were. Said I’d put on a show for the kids, and he’d end the kids’ session 20 minutes early and give us the next two hours,” she said, shrugging, “I also slipped him fifty bucks…is that enough for a bribe over here?”

“Moon!” Lillie exclaimed, her ears glowing red.

“Do you know Liza or Tate’s part?”

“L-liza’s…”

“Perfect!” she said, and then twisted around to look at Hau, her grip still tight on Lillie’s hands, “Can you grab us some skates? I’m a size seven.”

Hau saluted and rushed off. Before Lillie could even get her bearings, Hau was thrusting skates into her hands and Moon was crouched down on the floor beside her, tugging her skates on and lacing them up, her fingers slow and careful.

“This is sort of sudden,” Lillie said, her voice quiet.

“It’ll be fun,” Moon said, glancing up at her, “I’ve wanted to skate with you for a while now. And they’re kids, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“Doesn’t have to be perfect…” Lillie repeated, exasperated. What was the  _point_  of doing it, then, if it wasn’t perfect?

She was about to try to argue the point, when the music cut off and the DJ tapped against the microphone, and his deep voice boomed across the ice rink.

“Hey, hey, hey, kids. We’ve got a big treat for you today – two real life professional figure skaters, here to give you a special demonstration,” he said, as the children skidded to a halt on the ice, “If you’d kindly vacate the ice, we’ll get a special, private performance from Kanto’s Moon Asada and Alola’s own Lillie Aether!”

There was a confused murmur among the children, and a single excited yelp from one of the teachers. Lillie didn’t know how Moon had pulled this off – even she knew that most people didn’t care that much about figure skaters, regardless of what a big deal they were within their circles. And Moon was one of those big deals. Lillie, not so much.

The kids began to file off the ice, and Lillie found herself subject to Moon’s steely glare, the same battle-ready glower she’d seen Moon give her mother from across the ice.

“It’s now or never, Lillie,” she said, tone so utterly, deadly serious that Lillie couldn’t help but giggle, the balloon of anxiety in her gut subsiding.

They were just kids, Lillie told herself, glancing over at the tiny figures stumbling out of the ice. It didn’t matter if she performed perfectly or not.

Besides, how many skaters had the opportunity to do doubles skating with Moon Asada?

She slipped her skates on and stood.

“Okay. Okay. I can do this,” she said, mostly to herself, as she followed Moon onto the ice.

It was strange, hearing the skid of ice under her blades, feeling eyes following her. There were a few children hanging at the barriers, their fingers holding onto the edges and just the tops of their faces visible, but most of them had been shepherded into the stands. They all stared, expectant. None of them, Lillie wagered, would have any idea what a professional figure skating programme looked like. Whether that meant they would expect less or more than what she was capable of, Lillie didn’t know. She hoped less.

Lillie and Moon reached the centre of the ice, and Moon skidded around to face her. Lillie felt her pulse thrumming under her skin, every line of her veins pulsing with anxiety.

“Don’t worry,” Moon muttered, voice gentle, “Just follow my lead, alright?”

That was true enough, Lillie thought. Moon was here, and she was a world leader. In some ways, it didn’t matter if Lillie made a mess of things, because Moon would be there to pick up the slack.

“Okay,” she muttered back, as Moon seized her hands, squeezing them tightly.

The song began – a piece of classical music, the sort mother had made Gladion and herself listen to since they were babies. Moon pulled her arms up, and Lillie followed. Moon skated, pulling Lillie along by the hand. They span around each other, and Moon releases her, for Lillie’s first jump. She knew this programme better than the back of her hand, even now. Lillie jumped, but under-rotated. It’s meant to be a quad and she turned it into a triple. Her landing was clumsy – she almost touches down, and her arm is limp. It’s pathetic, amateurish. Clumsy.

The crowd cheered and applauded, and Lillie almost jumped. She glanced up to see Moon grinning at her, as she swerved closer, catching Lillie by the waist for their first lift. A waist hold, that turned into a twist lift – a double axel. Moon would catch her and deposit her back on the ice, and they’d so smoothly and quickly transition into a pair spin it would seem almost effortless.

It took so much practice before she and Gladion could pull it off. Even then, they flubbed it more often than not.

“Don’t try to do the twist – just jump and land, and then we’ll spin,” Moon muttered into her ear as she picked her up.

Lillie’s heart was hammering too hard to argue. She let Moon lift her, and then she jumped, barely any height at all, and felt herself caught in Moon’s arms again, her skates scraping against the ice as they span. She heard the crowd gasp, yell, bang their hands together. It was so absurd.

“We haven’t practiced this,” she spluttered. Moon grinned.

“Hey. They don’t know,” she said, and then lifted her again. That wasn’t in the progamme, usually. Lillie let out a squeal that dissolved into a laugh, as Moon span, eventually depositing her back on the ice.

The rest of the programme was just as botched as the start. They did the single elements were mostly fine, but they rushed the death spiral and practically tripped over themselves through the step sequence. Their unison and tempo would have made Lusamine weep.

The crowd just cheered and applauded, gasping as Moon threw Lillie into an over-rotated Lutz, shouting as they jumped into out-of-sync flips together. It was like they couldn’t even  _tell_.

Finally, the music drew to a close and Moon and Lillie returned to the centre for their final, stationary rotation, Moon’s arms looped around Lillie’s waist, Lillie breathless with sheer physical effort. And how badly she was restraining the desire to laugh.

Moon grinned down at her, her braids coming loose.

“That was  _awful_ ,” Lillie laughed.

“For us, maybe,” Moon replied, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and then stood up, hefting Lillie’s and her entwined hands into the air between them as the kids shouted and clapped.

They waved, hands clasped between them, and then skated back to the edge of the rink. Hau waved at them as they returned, and Hala just stood, arms folded.

“That wasn’t bad, for your first attempt at a full programme together,” Hala said.

“Yeah, you guys work well together!” Hau yelled, grinning. Lillie felt herself grin back, her hands still trembling a little, and was about to say something back when she was interrupted.

“That was cool!” blurted out a tiny voice. Lillie looked down to see a small kid in a school uniform standing, staring up at them, his finger up his nose, “I thought skating was boring. That was pretty awesome. Like ninjas.”

“Ninjas…” Lillie repeated, fiddling with her braid. Not even hesitating, Moon crouched down to the child’s height.

“Hey, thanks. Were we as cool as ninjas?”

The boy frowned.

“Well. Maybe not  _as_  cool. But still cool,” he said, “Are you guys on TV?”

“We have been,” Moon replied, clearly not as startled by the boy’s blunt answer as Lillie’s was, “And Lillie might be on TV later this year, skating in a big contest. Promise you’ll watch and cheer her on, okay?”

“Oh, cool. I will!” the boy said, and then rushed off, “Good luck, ladies!”

Moon stood up, waving at the boy as he rushed off. Lillie couldn’t imagine talking to a little kid so easily. She’d never really interacted with any.

“Hey!”

The boy in the hoodie was charging towards them. The hood dropped down, revealing choppy blonde bangs and a half-shaved head.

Gladion?

Again?

“Is  _this_  what you call low-profile?” Gladion snarled as they approached. Moon released Lillie’s hands and put her hands on her hips, tilting her head. It took a second for her to recognise him, but owing to the way her eyes widening, Lillie could pinpoint the exact moment she realised who he was

“Have you been  _following_  us?” Hau interrupted, tone uncharacteristically sharp. Gladion pulled his hood back up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned away from them.

“I don’t need to answer that,” he said, with his usual sense of melodrama, and then turned his attention back to Lillie, “Lillie, I told you to keep a low profile. How does cavorting about with mother’s  _runner-up_  –“

“Why can you tell Lillie what to do?” Moon interrupted, scowling at him.

“I’m just giving you some advice. If mother knows where you are…”

“She already knows where I am,” Lillie interrupted, voice scratching against her throat.

“What?” he said. Hau and Moon stared at them both, clearly lost. Lillie cleared her throat.

“She’s already sent people from the Aether Foundation to Kukui’s lab, to find me,” she continued, very softly, “She knows where I am.”

“I see…” Gladion said, “In that case, there’s nothing else I can do –“

He turned to leave, and Lillie felt something flare up hot inside her, and she reached forward to snatch hold of his arm, her fingers digging into his skin. Gladion twisted around to stare at her, eyes wide.

“What can mother do? We’re – we’re not  _children_  any more!” she said, her voice rising.

“Lillie…” Hau said gently behind her, reminding her where she was. She flushed, and loosened her grip, but didn’t let go.

“She can’t make us do  _anything_ ,” she said, much more quietly.

“All the same, if she finds us –“

“So what?” Lillie snapped, “What can she do?”

“You know fine well what she’s capable of,” Gladion replied, trying to pull her arm from Lillie’s grip. Lillie refused to let go, scowling at him as fiercely as she was able. It wasn’t much, but it made her feel better.

“So, you’re just going to – to, run around Alola alone forever?” she said, “Hiding from her? You can’t  _live_  like that, Gladion.”

“It’s best for now. We can’t do anything against her. She –“

“No!” she snapped, not sure where the voice coming out of her mouth was coming from. She tightened her hands into fists to subdue how badly she was shaking, and stood up straight.

“We’re not helpless,” she said, with all the dignity she could muster.

“I’d like to see you prove that,” he said, and turned away to leave.

“Fine!” Lillie blurted out, so loudly that all the children fell silent to stare, “I will. This year, I’m – I’m going to beat mother in the Grand Prix. I’m going to win gold against her, and then – and then you’re going to drop this silly charade and come home. Maybe not to mother, but at least to  _me_!”

Gladion stared at her over his shoulder, and Lillie suddenly became away of all the phone cameras recording her – the DJ in his booth, the students, and the one teacher who seemed to even know who they were.

“Ha, really?” he said, a smirk on his face that looked just like mother’s, “Fine. If you win, I’ll do whatever you want. Good luck.”

With that, and not even a second glance at any of them, Gladion strode out, leaving Lillie grasping the air where his arm had been, blinking.

What did she just do?

What on  _earth_ did she just do?

 

“So. Again. What did I do today?"

“Well, I’m not totally sure, but…it sounds like you staked your family’s future on winning gold at this year’s Grand Prix,” Hau said, chewing on a piece of malasada.

Lillie let her forehead hit the table. Next to her, Moon tried to rub her back. Lillie shrugged her off. She didn’t really want to be touched or comforted right now. Not after she had done something so explosively stupid.

Gladion had always said her impulsivity would be the end of her. However, Lillie had always thought that she was only impulsive compared to Gladion, who was about as prone to spontaneity as a pocket watch.

That is, until he stole money from their mother, ran away from home, and joined a gang.

That had, all things considered, been pretty spontaneous. At least, from Lillie and Lusamine’s perspectives.

Yet that didn't seem anywhere near as stupid as promising she would beat her unbeatable mother at her very own game.

“Hey, listen,” Moon said, clicking her fingers. Lillie lifted her head from the table, her glasses askew and a scrap of malasada sticking to her temple.

“Listen. With my coaching, you  _will_  win gold,” she said, “Trust me. That dumb emo brother of yours will eat his words.”

Lillie sat up, looking at Moon’s serious expression. She actually meant it. Lillie did not remotely understand why, but she really meant it.

“Alright,” she said.

“Alright?” Moon repeated.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to smile, “Make me win gold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moon, the most useless lesbian: I swear I will find an excuse to skate with this cute girl or I will die trying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a teeny bit of Hawaiian in this chapter! I do not in any way speak Hawaiian (though I discovered from a bit of research the grammar is fascinating), so if I majorly goofed it, feel free to correct me!
> 
> Other than that, please enjoy!

The first thing on Moon’s training plan was to get Lillie to build up muscle mass again. She’s gotten skinny, since her loss at the Grand Prix. Probably since she’d spent most of her time lounging around on Kukui’s couch, reading books and watching documentaries.

That meant, running, before sunset. Not just along the beach, but over all of Melemele Island. The first day, Lillie had returned home and just about passed out on the floor, before Moon was on her for breakfast (mostly egg-based. For protein, apparently). Then there were crunches, squats, weights training. She had her in Kukui’s basement, smacking the bag with her feet and her fists. She had her lifting weights, lifting her Pokémon, lifting Moon, lifting Hau. She did yoga, she stretched, she practiced gymnastics.

And, finally, she practised on the ice.

The Hau’Oli Community Ice Rink wasn’t a big one. It was mostly a novelty, for the kids. As one of the only ice rinks in Alola that wasn’t directly owned by Lillie’s mother, though, it was their only option. Moon booked it as much as she could, waving away Lillie’s concerns about the costs. Occasionally, they shared slots with Hau, encouraging each other with shouts and cheers from the stands as the other practised old routines. Hala and Moon, two coaches not exactly suited to their roles, stood at the sides, trying to be as inscrutable as possible, occasionally shaking or nodding their heads, just slightly, just enough to tell Hau and Lillie what they thought.

It was exhausting. Lillie and Clefairy returned home most evening and just clambered straight up the ladder to bed, flopping down and falling asleep even as Moon called upstairs to ask if Lillie wanted to watch a movie together, or make dinner, or (Lillie was sure she hadn’t imagined this) sleep in the same bed.

She hadn’t seen Gladion since her initial outburst at the skating rink. Maybe he was busy, or maybe he had just stopped stalking them, and was off doing whatever it was to fill his days these days.

His loss, Lillie couldn’t help but think. Even as she panted, exhausted, by the sea, or lay in her bed with every muscle in her body aching so badly it felt as though the pain was radiating from her, Lillie was sure she had never felt so good about her training.

Training with Hau, Hala, and Moon was a billion miles from training just with Lusamine, or even training with Lusamine and Gladion. She wasn’t sure what it was, exactly. Maybe it was Moon’s more spontaneous, lackadaisical style, or maybe it was Hau’s sunny attitude, or Hala’s occasional decision they should spend the afternoon praying at the Ruins of Confronation rather than practising their toe loops.

“Great work today,” Moon said, one evening as they returned home. Kukui and Burnet were on the couch together, watching some animated movie about a Wimpod who learned to stand up for himself and his friends, so Lillie had collapsed at the kitchen counter.

Not even saying anything, Moon had passed into the kitchen and began cooking something. Every movement a strain, Lillie finally lifted her head as Moon deposited a plate of something in front of her – a yellow omelette-looking thing, decorated with a smiley face in ketchup.

“Omurice,” Moon explained, leaning against the fridge with her arms folded, “Mom always made me some when I was worn out from training. Carbs, protein, all the good stuff.”

Lillie sat up, staring at the gleaming mountain of food in front of her. It smelled delicious.

“Well,” Moon said, expression oddly embarrassed, “Eat up.”

Trying not to contemplate what a cute little look on her face that was, Lillie picked up her fork and dug in.

 

There were decisions to be made.

First of all: Lillie’s theme for the season.

(She had some ideas, but she couldn’t help but feel they were all silly. She just hoped Moon would come up with something good instead.)

Next, the songs for her short and free programmes.

(Despite taking to scrolling through the songs on her phone before she went to sleep, she still hadn’t managed to narrow it down to a shortlist. Again, she couldn’t help but hope Moon had some ideas, because she didn’t.)

Then, the choreography for her programme, and how they would integrate Clefairy into the routines.

(She’d never choreographed her own programme before.)

Finally, costumes.

(Without the family tailor, Lillie was at a loss where to even begin. She didn’t even have her old costumes – they were locked away back at Aether Manor.)

Moon kept asking her – springing questions on her suddenly over dinner, or in the middle of training, as though trying to surprise her into having an answer. Every time, Lillie still didn’t have anything useful to say. She could feel Moon begin to grow irritated with her with every passing week, the initial gentle reminders that Lillie had plenty of time morphing slowly into more insistent suggestions and questions. It only made Lillie feel more scattered, and less able to make a decision.

So, of the decisions to be made, as globals began to seem less like a concept they were preparing for, and more like a date on a calendar, Lillie had officially made…none of them.

The only thing that made her feel a little better was that Hau hadn’t managed to sort any of that out either.

“I figure it’ll work out, right?” he said to her, grinning easily, as they watched Hala battle a kid taking their island challenge. He laughed, rubbing a hand through his head, “It’s no fun skating if you’re worrying about it the whole time!”

Hala must have heard, because he glanced across at them, letting the kid get an easy hit on one of his Pokémon.

He didn’t exactly look pleased.

 

Usually, Lillie and Moon walked to the ice rink in Hau’oli together. So, when Lillie woke late to a text from Moon asking her to meet her there, as soon as possible, she was more than a little bemused. Shrugging it off, she changed into her practice clothes, picked up her skates, and headed out.

She was even more bemused when she got there and found Hala, sternly standing by the barrier, and Hau, sipping a mocha out of a paper cup and looking half asleep, waiting for her alongside Moon.

“I thought we were practising this morning,” Lillie said, sounding a bit dim even to herself.

“Oh, we are,” Moon said, a devilish grin on her face. She exchanged a glance with Hala and he nodded, clapping his hands together.

“Right. The two of you, front and centre. As your coaches, we have plans for today,” he said, snapping his fingers. Hau stood up straight, exchanging a confused glance with Lillie. She shrugged back, equally as bemused.

On a table by the rink, Moon had plugged her phone into a set of speakers. Without any preamble, she leaned down and hit play on something.

Thumping drums and soaring whistles filled the room, interrupted by frequent crashes, the wail of violins. A male voice sang over it, in rapid Alolan, too quickly for Lillie to follow. It was loud and fast. It was hot sun beating down on a battle ground. A song for fighting.

“Hey, I know this!” Hau said, hopping up and down on the spot beside her, “This is _Ke Leo Ho’onani o Tapu Koko_! It’s a traditional Iki Town song. I’ve danced to this every year since I was a kid!”

“Correct, Hau!” Moon said brightly, pausing the music, “Lillie, what do you think of it?”

“It sounds…kind of angry,” she said, frowning.

“Angry?” Hau repeated, staring at her, “That’s totally wrong! It’s – I mean, sure, it represents Tapu Koko’s battle prowess, but it’s not about being angry, it’s about being strong, and celebrating that!”

“Very good. Now, I’d like to play you something different…” Moon said, and leaned over and pressed play again. Something else began to play: gentle violins, plucking strings, and low brass. It got faster in the middle, becoming almost claustrophobic, before slowing again to a mournful dirge at the end.

Lillie recognised it immediately.

“Oh, this is _Symphony of the Crystallised Prince_ ,” she said, “It’s from a Kalos ballet. It’s about a prince during a great war. He falls in love with a young general of his army, and runs away from the palace to join him on the front lines. Unfortunately, an evil wizard from the opposing army notices the prince and kidnaps him, sealing him in crystal. The young general tries to save him, but the wizard says that she will only release the prince if the general agrees to poison and kill his own men.”

“Woah,” Hau said, “So, what, he fought the wizard and smashed the crystal himself?”

“Um. Not exactly. This song is about the general struggling with his decision, trying to touch the prince through the ice, and then at the end he pours poison into the water supply, and watches his own soldiers slowly die around him,” she explained, watching Hau’s face fall further and further with her every word.

“So, uh, then the prince and the general get to run away together in the end?” he asked. Lillie cringed.

“Uh. No. The wizard does release the prince, but on seeing what the general has done, the prince commits suicide. The general then kills the wizard and then himself,” she continued, feeling slightly from Hau’s expression as though she were kicking a very small child, “The ballet ends with the general and the prince dancing on opposite sides of a crystal wall. The general has went to hell to be tortured, and the prince has went to heaven with the general’s soldiers, and they never see each other again.”

“…That’s depressing and terrible! Who would want to watch something like that?” Hau spluttered. Lillie flushed.

“It’s a beautiful production, actually…” she said, feebly deciding not to tell him it was her favourite ballet. Sure, it was depressing, but it was _ballet_ , what did you expect?

“That’s right, Lillie,” Hala said, “So, since you two were dragging your heels, Moon and I have took the liberty of choreographing routines to these songs for you –“

Lillie brightened up. She didn’t even know _how_ Moon knew about one of her favourite ballets, or about her favourite pieces of classical music, but she wasn’t about to complain. It was perfect. Judging by Hau’s expression, he was just as pleased with his.

“Yep! That’s right!” Moon said, grinning, “Hau, you’ll be skating to the Symphony of the Crystallised Prince.”

Oh no.

“Aaaaand you, Lillie, will be skating to Tapu Koko’s song!”

Of course she was.

Moon clapped her hands together, her smile nothing short of fiendish.

“Okay! Lillie, I’ll show you the programme I put together for you, first. My Marowak will stand in for your Clefairy, right now, and we’ll talk about the moves he’ll use later. For now, just focus on the programme itself.”

It was a fantastic programme, powerful and confident. Performing it, Moon genuinely looked like a warrior, thrilled with her own strength and proud to demonstrate it to anyone who would dare to defy her. The jumps were high and magnificent, the step sequences thrilling. Every movement, step, and spin was perfectly in time with the music, as though the music had been designed for the programme, and not the other way around.

And it was _completely_ not Lillie’s style.

 

“This sucks.”

“I know, Hau.”

“This _sucks!_ ”

Lillie sighed, patting Hau on the arm. They were taking a break from practice, both so sore they could barely move. Beside them, Clefariy and Hau’s Leafon weren’t faring much better, Clefairy curled up and weakly twitching his wings, and Leafon resting her head on Hau’s lap, letting him scratch behind her ears.

It had been an arduous few hours. The programmes were insanely difficult, by anyone’s standards, but it was really making it seem authentic that proved difficult.

The issue wasn’t the technical aspects, it was that neither of them could sell it. Lillie couldn’t see herself as a battle-hardened warrior, proud of her strength and skill. Similarly, Hau couldn’t see himself as a tortured army general, ultimately coming to the decision to betray his people in a desperate bid for love.

Hau started giggling, unable to take the gravity and melodrama of the scene seriously, and would stop frequently to talk about the far more sensible courses of action the general could have taken instead.

“It’s about intense emotion overcoming intellect!” Hala shouted at him, the fourth time Hau stopped mid-way through his programme to make that complaint.

Meanwhile, Lillie felt so deeply embarrassed at the idea of trying to present herself as _strong and powerful_ , that she kept flubbing easy jumps and all but tripping over her own feet.

The first time she hit the ice, Moon had put skates on with superhuman speed and practically teleported there to help Lillie up and fuss over her. The sixth time, she had just sighed and asked if she was okay.

A staff member from the café came over and laid their order down – hotdogs, fries, and milkshakes. They were both supposed to be on healthy diets to build up muscle (for Lillie) or lose a few pounds (for Hau), but they had both felt so sorry for themselves after the disaster that was the morning, neither could bring themselves to stick to it.

Lillie dipped a fry in some mayonnaise and popped it in her mouth, hiding her mouth behind her hand as she ate. Across from her, Hau grabbed his hot dog and shoved as much of it in his mouth as physically possible, chewing and letting bits of bread and mushed tofu spray out of his mouth.

“They should just let us swap programmes,” he said, “This must be a joke…”

“It…does seem like that,” Lillie said, slowly.

Piece by piece, an idea came together in her head. She stood up, her chair skidding behind her.

“What?” Hau said.

“I’ve just thought of something,” Lillie said, and turned on her heel, striding to where Hala and Moon were hanging near the speakers, chatting. They fell silent as she approached. This only confirmed her suspicions.

She stopped in front of them, folding her arms, and felt Clefairy settle by her ankle, the soft fuzz of his fur pressed against her skin. Behind her, Hau got up, blinking away his confusion, and followed her.

“This was to teach us a lesson,” she said. Hala and Moon looked at each other – Hala looking pleased, Moon, guilty. Lillie knew it. She should have known it the second Moon declared that they would be skating to the exact opposite song they were suited to.

“Ha! Smart girl, your student,” Hala said, laughing with his head tossed back, “Yes, yes. We cooked this little scheme up to teach you an important lesson – if you don’t make decisions, someone will make them for you, and more than often, they’ll be wrong.”

“Oooh,” Hau said, and then laughed, “Haha, I get it! Nice one, tutu.”

“Yeah, though I always think it’s fun to do different types of programmes now and again,” Moon said, “Alright, so we’ll switch the programmes back. Hau, you can do the Tapu Koko one, and Lillie –“

“No.”

The word left Lillie’s mouth before she knew what she was doing. Moon stopped, mid-sentence, and stared at her. Lillie wasn’t sure what the look on her face was meant to be – whether she was impressed or shocked or insulted or what, but she didn’t want to think about that right now. All she knew was that she did not like Moon pulling these tricks on her. It was like, something mother would have done. She could imagine the exact scenario: mother assigning herself and Gladion mismatched programmes, watching as they fumbled, all to teach them some lesson or another.

She’d ran away to get away from her mother. She wasn’t about to let someone else treat her the same way.

“No, we’re not switching them back,” she said, keeping her voice level.

“W-we’re not?” Hau spluttered, eyes wide. Clefairy stared at her as well, his expression equally disbelieving.

“No,” she said, her voice still soft and shaking, even as she raised her chin to look Moon in the eye, trying to convey through her gaze what she wasn’t brave enough to say out loud, holding her hands tightly in front of her, “This is what I want to do for my short programme. _The_ _Song of Tapu Koko._ ”

A weird, terse silence fell between them. Moon looked at a loss – this was clearly the last thing she had anticipated.

“Does…does this mean I have to do the Crystal Prince one?” Hau stuttered finally.

 

Lillie spent the next few days practising _The Song of Tapu Koko_ routine. Moon stands at the side, arms crossed, occasionally critiquing her form, or stepping on the ice to demonstrate if all else fails. When they aren’t practising, Lillie is running, doing sit-ups and crunches. She gets back to doing ballet practices. She watches videos of the traditional Song of Tapu Koko dance online.

She was Alolan. On her father’s side, at least. Lusamine was from Kalos, originally, but Mohn was an Alola man through and through. Yet she’d never really experienced anything of Alola’s traditions, anything of their culture. It felt strange to be so carefully studying something that should have been part of her life growing up, as though she were an outsider.

She discovered that Alolan dancing is very different from Kalos ballet, or from her usual figure skating routine. All the foot movements are firm and definitive, and the dancing is all swinging hips, fists punching forward, bold arm movements. She saw the way this traditional dancing is an ancestor of the Z-Move dances kids learn as part of their island challenge.

It was beautiful, really. It made her want to stay in Iki Town for New Years, to see the dances up close, or for their other festivals throughout the year.

She wondered if her father ever brought her to those types of things, before he died. Maybe she just didn’t remember any of those days, she thought. Yet try as she might, she couldn’t uncover any specific memories. Vague impressions of being on her father’s shoulders, of bonfires, gentle singing in Native Alolan, her mother laughing.

All things that Lillie could have easily made up, really.

She talked to Moon as little as they could manage, still stung at her little trick. They settled into the cool, impersonal relationship of coach and trainer, rather than whatever they were approaching when they performed that impromptu pairs programme for the local schoolkids.

It was. Awkward. Lillie couldn’t deny that.

Yet, what could she do? This was just how things went, with her.

Lillie never really had friends. The closest she’d had growing up was Gladion. Maybe Hau counted as a friend now, but she didn’t really know how to say for sure. Did people tell each other, when they became friends? Did they ask? She honestly couldn’t say for sure.

Lillie finished a practice of the full programme, spinning to a stop in the centre of the ice, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She gasps for breath, and then her legs collapsed beneath her and her knees smacked hard against the ice.

She’d done it. For the first time, she’d ran through the entire programme with absolutely no mistakes – every jump with the right rotations, the right height, hit at the right time. She’s gotten it _perfect_. She hadn’t calculated what score she would have gotten in competition as she went, but she was sure it would have been good.

Clefairy came to stop beside her, singing a cheerful note at her. She smiled at him and got to her feet, looking across at Moon, beaming.

Moon’s face was held in a pensive frown, her brows furrowed. Like she wasn’t impressed at all.

That odd, hot feeling in her stomach returned. She skated towards the edge of the rink, and Moon passed her a bottle of water.

“So…what was wrong with that?” she asked. Moon sucked down on her lower lip.

“Listen, technically, that was great,” she said, slowly, her tone thoughtful, “Still though, I’m just not, I don’t know. I’m not _buying_ it.”

“Not buying it?” Lillie repeated.

“I just. I don’t feel the sheer _awe_ that Tapu Koko should convey,” she said, “You still, I don’t know. You hesitate. You seem as though you’re just following instructions, rather than showing the crowd what you can do.”

Lillie swallowed. She was just following instructions, though. Moon had composed the whole programme, and Lillie was executing it. What else was there for her to do?

“I’m doing my best.”

“I get that. I do,” Moon said, scratching behind her ear, “But…I don’t know. Should we try to make a programme that suits you better?”

“No,” Lillie snapped, so sharply that Moon winced. She sighed, shoved the bottle of water back into Moon’s hands, and returned to her starting position.

“Let’s just run through the programme again.”

 

She couldn’t sleep. She’d had hot milk, meditated, stretched, counted Mareep, and did some breathing exercises. None of it did the trick. She still lay awake, staring at the ceiling, arms rigid beside her.

The short programme was still lacking, and she hadn’t even developed her free programme yet.

She’d bet the future of her family on winning the Grand Prix against mother in the coming year.

Her relationship with Moon had turned frosty and strange, so quickly.

She sat up. There was no way she could rest easy, with so much on her mind. Leaning down, she scooped her phone from the floor, checking for messages. Nothing. Hau would be passed out in bed at this point, and she didn’t really have any other contacts.

She wondered if Gladion had a phone. Neither of them had ever had one back in the Aether Paradise. It had been the first purchase Kukui had made for her, against her sheepish protests.

It would be nice to be able to talk to him, about any of this. Not because Gladion would have any answers, not really, but because he’d put such a cynical, funny spin on it that it wouldn’t seem so worth worrying about any more.

She needed to clear her head. Exercise would do the trick. Careful not to wake Clefairy, she changed into some jogging pants and a t-shirt, and tugged her hair up into a messy bun, before heading out into the night. It was as cold as Alola ever got, just enough to make a T-shirt feel not quite warm enough, but humid enough to have her back soaked with sweat as soon as she’d been jogging for twenty minutes.

She did a lap across the beach, and then through Hau’oli, past the silent school and the darkened mall.

Hau and Hala wouldn’t be awake, but she decided to jog through Iki Town anyway. Some of the torches were still lit, as they always were, but it was silent apart from the low rustle of Rattata scavenging for scraps of food in the night.

Ever since she’d arrived in Melemele, she realised, she’d never went to the Ruins of Conflict.

It seemed only fitting that she should, now that her short programme was partially inspired by Tapu Koko. Stopping to take a sip of water, she started her jog up the hill.

It was steeper than she anticipated, and more difficult to navigate in the dark. At least, she thought, the sun would rise soon and give her a bit of light.

She reached the top, and found the distance between herself and the Ruins of Conflict was bridged with a flimsy-looking rope bridge, swinging and creaking even in the gentle spring breeze.

Lillie reached the edge of the cliff and glanced down at the rotting wooden boards, following the narrow lines of the ropes, wobbling in the wind. It looked like one wrong move and the entire bridge would collapse beneath her feet.

Surely, though, it was safe enough? If the Ruins of Conflict lay on the other side of it, surely the residents of Iki Town crossed it regularly? It couldn’t be as fragile as it looked…

Another breeze blew through her, warm and mild, and the planks of the bridge rattled together, the ropes holding it together whipping to and fro like a piece of tissue paper.

Oh. Hell no.

She was about to turn away and head back down the slope to Iki Town, when she heard footsteps approaching. Her hand went to Clefairy’s Pokéball at her belt, before she remembered that Clefairy was still in her bed, fast asleep.

Why had she ran out without her Clefairy? Not that he was a particularly vicious battle Pokémon, but it was better than running around unprotected. Stupid.

A figure emerged from around the corner, lit by the orange glow from her Charizard’s tail. Moon stared at her, head tilted to one side.

“Hi,” she said, as she returned Charizard to his ball.

“Um…did you follow me?” Lillie asked.

“Ha, uh, not exactly,” she said, scratching her cheek, “I heard you get up and wanted to check everything was alright. I didn’t see where you went so…I just took an educated guess.”

She came to stand by Lillie, glancing down at the bridge.

“Soooo…you’re mad at me,” Moon said, as casually as telling her they were out of milk.

Lillie said nothing, just sucked her lips together and looked at her feet. It was embarrassing, really, to be so transparent about something so personal. She’d always been taught to handle such unflattering emotions with grace, and decorum. Nobody, Lillie knew, should be able to tell that you even felt such things.

“Yeah, okay, I’m just gonna come right out, and admit I don’t know why,” Moon continued, turning to look straight at her, her grin sheepish, “I’m kind of dumb with this stuff, not gonna lie. So. Uh. Do you want to tell me why you’re mad at me?”

No. She did not. She, frankly, could not imagine anything more mortifying.

Instead, she just sighed, and shrugged.

“Is it because I made that programme for you without asking?” Moon said, persistent as ever, “Uh, ‘cos I gave you a hard programme to practice? Because I tricked you and Hau with that little switcheroo?”

Lillie looked up at her. She didn’t mean to answer, but clearly something in her expression did. Moon looked struck, and then rubbed her face.

“Wow. Uh, sorry,” she said, “You know, I’m new to this whole coaching business and…well, I don’t know, it sounded like a good way to get the message across. Still, as soon as I did it, I felt a little dirty. You…don’t like being tricked like that, do you?”

Lillie shook her head. Moon huffed out a sigh, half-laughing.

“Sorry. I won’t pull a trick like that again,” she said, rubbing her forearm. Lillie looked at her, surprised – she had expected to be lectured, really, about being too sensitive, about missing the whole point of the lesson. She had not really expected an apology.

“Don’t look so surprised!” Moon said, laughing, “C’mon, I’m getting used to coaching, and I’m getting used to you. It’s not really a big surprise we’d have a goof somewhere along the line. So, you know, you and Hau really can switch programmes if you like?”

“No,” Lillie said.

“No?” Moon said, “Still?”

“No, I uh. Well I actually really _like_ the programme you came up with. It’s something Mother would have _never_ put together for me,” she said, and then smiled, “Besides, I want to do something different. Everyone thinks they know what to expect out of me. I want to show them I’m not just my mother’s daughter.”

“Oh,” Moon said, clearly thrown off by that little declaration, “Cool.”

“Haha, though I’m still not very good at the programme,” Lillie said, sheepish.

“Hey, well…while we’re here, let’s do some research. Tapu Koko’s shrine is just across there,” Moon said, nodding across the bridge. Lillie glanced down at the swaying bridge by her feet, her stomach churning a little bit as she stared down at the abyss below.

She looked up, planning to say something about how dangerous it looked, but Moon was already walking past her, a few feet ahead of her on the bridge. She turned, grinning, her hands gripping the ropes either side of her.

“C’mon!” Moon said, “Me, Sun and Hau started our island challenge here! We tried to scare the crap out of each other rocking the bridge back and forth and stuff. It’s totally more stable than it looks.”

Lillie couldn’t help but be dubious, but with Moon already half-way across, she couldn’t exactly say no. Steeling herself, she stepped out onto the bridge and followed Moon across.

“So, you guys came to the Ruins of Conflict first?” she asked, as she caught up with Moon on the other side.

“Sure,” Moon said, “It’s an Iki Town tradition – you start your island challenge by going across to the Ruins of Conflict and giving thanks to Tapu Koko. Hala gives you your Z-Ring there as well. It feels all…momentous, and stuff.”

“Oh,” Lillie said, feeling very stupid that Moon knew more about Alolan traditions than herself, “What made you want to come to Alola for the island challenge? It’s a long way from Kanto…”

Moon glanced over her shoulder at her.

“Mom’s Alolan. After she and my Dad broke up, she wanted to move back home, at least for a while,” she explained, “Said she wanted me and Sun to get to know the other side of our heritage. But _I_ think she just missed the beach, honestly.”

“Oh! So you’re…”

“Half Alolan, half Kantonian, yep!”

Lillie smiled.

“Oh, me too,” she said, and then shook her head, “I mean! Not the Kantonian bit, obviously. But the half Alolan bit.”

“What’s the other half?”

“Oh. _Kaloçais_ ,” she said, “At least, on my mother’s side of the family, anyway. Though I think mother _was_ born here…”

“Ah. _Tray bean._ ”

Lillie giggled. She couldn’t help it – Moon’s dreadful pronunciation caught her off guard. Lillie would have been mortified to have someone laugh at her trying to say something in a foreign language, but Moon just laughed.

As the sun began to rise, they stepped into Tapu Koko’s shrine, Lillie had seen photos, in textbooks and online, but she had never actually been to any of the Tapus’ shrines in person before. It smelled like crackling bonfires, and the thick must of the jungle. Moon tugged on her wrist and dragged her up the stairs, to the altar.

“I haven’t brought anything with me,” Lillie whispered, feeling instinctually as though she should keep her voice low.

“That’s fine, I have some berries,” Moon muttered back, leaning down to her bag to tug out a small box. She opened it up with a click that echoed loudly in the shrine, and passed Lillie a handful of hard yellow citrus berries. Uncertain what to do, Lillie placed the berries on the altar and clapped her hands together, closing her eyes. She was glad to see that Moon followed suite.

She wasn’t sure whether she was meant to give thanks aloud, or in her head, or just stand there in silence for a second to demonstrate respect. Instead, she just tried to think of everything she’d ever read about Tapu Koko. She needed to try and _sell_ this programme.

A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she opened her eyes.

“Moon?” she said, “Do we have time to go shopping this morning?”

“So, come on. What’s the plan?” Moon asked, as they finally returned to the ice rink, after Lillie had had them flying from one island to another. Lillie let out a breath and fished some of the TMs she had bought out of her bag, laying them on the table in front of her.

“So, we’ve been relying on Clefairy’s usual abilities…fairy magic, cosmic power, just…glitter, I guess,” Lille said, rubbing a braid between her fingers as she looked at the TMs. She could feel Moon hovering by her shoulder, looking at what she’d bought. She cleared her throat, hoping that she didn’t seem too silly, “But…Tapu Koko is associated with thunderstorms, and lightning, right?”

“Right…” Moon said slowly, glancing at the electric type TMs spread across the table, realisation slowly dawning on her face. Lillie picked up the Rain Dance TM she had bought (with Moon’s money), opened the jewel case and popped the disk out of its slot.

“So, why don’t we simulate that a little?” she said, “Maybe I can’t really sell it by myself, but, with an indoor thunderstorm…”

“That’s…pretty dangerous. Most skaters don’t try to use any damaging moves during programme,” she said.

“Hau has used Raichu’s electricity during his programmes before,” Lillie pointed out.

“Raichu’s an electric type. He’s had a lifetime of practice with it. It’ll be new to Clefairy, and to you, too,” Moon warned her, tone thoughtful. Lillie felt herself deflate – it had seemed like such a good idea back at the altar. What would make the programme seem even more powerful and dramatic than that?

Moon stared at her, and then seemed to come to some sort of decision, smacking her hands on the table and then standing up.

“Alright, well, we’ll have to start practicing now,” she said, “Clefairy will need to perfect his control over Rain Dance and whatever electric move you decide to give him before I’m willing to send you out on the ice at the same time, though.”

Lillie brightened up, suddenly excited. She’d never really taught Clefairy how to use anything so unusual before, and she’d certainly never seen her mother’s Clefable stray from the usual techniques the Clefable line used on the ice. It would be something completely new.

“While he’s working on that, however, _you_ need to pick a song for your free programme,” Moon said, raising a finger at her.

Oh.

Yeah.

That.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun coming up with a fake ballet for this chapter, can you tell?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm hyper-fixated on Pokémon again, take this.

By the end of the week, Clefairy could create stormy grey clouds above the ice rink, letting a thin drizzle of rain fall upon it. Moon insisted that the rain needed to be much, much lighter – just enough to be visible, but subtle enough it didn’t distract from Lillie’s performance. It also needed to only come into the second half – the first half needed to be focused on Lillie’s jumps.

As for how to integrate lightning into the performance, Moon suggested using Thunder Wave to kick up sparks from Lillie’s blades when she hit the ice, in time with the beat of the drums.

It would be tricky. Not to mention dangerous. It could, very potentially, just end in the entire programme coming off as a bizarre, gimmicky mess. They needed to tread carefully.

Yet, Moon assured her, if it worked, it would be incredible.

Lusamine would have never let Lillie try anything so outlandish.

Lillie tried to push her mother’s stern voice out of her head. She didn’t want to lose her nerve – especially after she’d practically forced Moon to let her try this.

She still didn’t have a free programme.

#

“Why don’t you take a different Tapu’s song for your free programme?” Burnet suggested. Moon glanced over at Lillie from where her and her Flaaffy were helping Clefairy practice his newfound electricity powers.

Using another Tapu song was an idea they had discussed a few times. There were other traditional Alolan Tapu songs - Tapu Fini’s song would provide a nice contrast.

All the same, Lillie shook her head. She saw the logic of it, but it didn’t feel right.

“No, I want something different. I don’t want to just go for…you know, Alola as my theme,” she said, waving a hand, “It feels sort of…disingenuous.”

“You grew up here,” Burnet pointed out.

“I grew up in Aether Paradise, really,” Lillie replied, shaking her head. She went back to her ballet exercises, as Burnet hopped onto a seat nearby.

“Well,” Burnet said, resting an elbow on the back of the plastic seat, “Think. What else do you want the world to know about you?”

“I – huh?”

“Well, your _Ke Leo Ho’onani o Tapu Koko_ programme is all about you being stronger than everyone thinks…”

Lillie tripped over her own feet.

“That’s not what it’s _about_!” Lillie spluttered, face going brilliantly red. Burnet laughed. Lillie scrambled to her feet, barely able to even say how many ways that was wrong. Said like that, it made Lillie sound so…so _arrogant._

“Oh, then what is about?”

“It’s – it’s just. I don’t know,” she said, “I just decided to keep it because it was. Different. Mother would have never let me do that routine.”

“A-ha! I get it,” Burnet said, folding her arms with a grin, “It’s about rebellion!”

“Noooo!” Lillie moaned, burying her face in her hands. That was even more embarrassing!

“Is it a challenge, then, to your mother?”

“No, no…well, perhaps a little bit,” Lillie admitted, “Honestly, I’m mostly terrified of her seeing it. Brrr…”

“Come on. It must mean something to you, to want to do it,” Burnet asked. Lillie bit her lip. It did, she was sure. What she wasn’t sure of was…how and why. Was it just because it was Moon’s choreography? That may be part of it, but she could have easily taken the Symphony of the Crystallised Prince programme instead, if she just wanted something that Moon had put together.

On the ice, Hau leapt into a double axel, jumping alongside Leafeon. They landed together, and Leafeon swept away as Hau went into a combination spin. The spin was meant to represent the final moment of torturous indecision before the general chose to poison his troops. Hau’s attempt at a tortured expression broke quickly into muffled laughter.

“You’re _torn with indecision, Hau!_ ” Hala shouted at him, tone utterly despairing. It only made Hau laugh more. Across in the Pokémon’s practice area, Clefairy let out a jolt of electricity that knocked a light out overhead, earning a bleating lecture from Flaaffy.

“I’m going to get a quick breath of fresh air,” Lillie said, standing up.

“Want me to come with?” Burnet offered. Lillie shook her head, smiling in a way that she hoped seemed grateful. She really needed a few moments alone – they had been in the rink alternating between on-ice practise and exercises for hours now, and hearing the same song over and over, Hala’s shouts, Moon’s cries, and the rumbles and zaps of Clefairy’s attempts at different electric moves, well, it was starting to make her feel claustrophobic.

She stepped outside, breathing out. It was almost dark. The rest of Melemele Island had probably retreated home for dinner by now. The rest of Melemele, she reminded herself wryly, didn’t have a major competition looming over them.

Six weeks. Six weeks and she didn’t have a free programme prepared. Her mother usually had her programme prepped a year in advance, alongside her costumes. She would just be running drills over it, over and over, barely even thinking through the steps. Barely really thinking about it all, really. She didn’t need to – she just needed to carry out all the steps.

It was completely different to actually have to think about it.

“There you are.”

It had been a long time since Lillie had heard that voice, and the sound of it sent ice through her bones. She looked up to see Faba approaching her, flanked by two employees from the Aether Foundation. The Aether workers looked cautious, watching her with evident concern. Faba, on the other hand, looked positively bored.

“Ridiculous. I cannot believe a man of my intellect and stature, reduced to running around trying to find my employer’s runaway daughter…” Faba said, and then shook his head, “Well, Miss Lillie, I hope you’re pleased with how much time you’ve wasted. It is difficult enough to continue my work as is, with Professor Mohn gone and our acting president quite negligent of her duties. I didn’t need to be a babysitter as well. Now, come along. Time to go home.”

Lillie stepped away, her back hitting the wall.

“No,” Lillie said, shaking her head.

“Miss Lillie,” one of the Aether employees said, her voice low, “Miss Lusamine explained the whole thing. We know you’ve been unwell. We just want you to come home and get better.”

“ _Unwell?_ ” Lillie repeated, anger flaring in her chest. Was that the story Lusamine was selling now? She didn’t know what she expected. She heard the way she talked about Gladion after he left – pressures of stardom, grief over their father, always been a melodramatic boy, always been selfish. She should have known she’d receive the exact same treatment for leaving.

Both Aether employees winced, watching her like she was a skittish Tauros they were trying to herd back into the pen.

“She’s just a little girl, grab hold of her. She’ll have time enough to calm down on the journey home,” Faba instructed. The employees looked at one another and released a Pokémon each – Machoke and Primeape.

“We’ve really sorry, Miss Lillie,” one said, as the two Pokémon came closer, gently trying to grab her between them. Lillie jerked away from the Primeape’s paw, but the Machoke took hold of her waist, lifting her from the ground. She shrieked, kicking and thrashing, but it was like pounding against a brick wall.

“Please just come along, we don’t want you to end up hurt.”

There was nothing else for it. Lillie sucked in a breath and screamed for help as loudly as she could. Faba clamped a hand over her mouth, and glared viciously at the two Pokémon, who both looked very uncomfortable with what they were being asked to do.

“Let’s _move_! The girl will have us arrested at this rate,” Faba snarled, “Honestly, girl, making such a scene. Your mother said you were a danger to yourself, but I never imagined.”

#

“Right, onto the ship you go, girl. Sit down and _be quiet,_ ” Faba ordered, as Machoke and Primeape carried Lillie onto one of the Aether ships and released her. Immediately, she leapt up and tried to the run for the door, only to be pushed back by Faba.

“Please, Miss Lillie. We’ll be home soon. Your mother has been worried sick,” one of the Aether employees said, as the other closed the door shut. Lillie’s heart hammered in her throat. Her mother. In a few hours, she would be back at the Aether Paradise, and she could not even imagine Lusamine so furious.

She wouldn’t be able to leave her room again. She’d certainly wouldn’t go to the Grand Prix. She’d never see Clefairy again. Or Gladion, or Hau, or Moon.

Hau, she thought. She may not be able to contact Gladion, or Moon, but she could text Hau.

She watched as one of the Aether employees returned to the helm of the ship, and Faba left the room, muttering something about going to catch up on some work, what a waste of time, blahblah.

It was just her, the two Pokémon, and the one last employee, staring her down.

She needed to think fast. If the ship left port and got far enough, there was no way anyone would be able to do anything to help her.

There was no way she could try to talk to the Aether employee and convince her to let her go. After all, she thought Lillie was unhinged – driven half mad by the pressure of competitive figure skating, being heir to a major non-profit organisation, and the grief of her father’s death.

Ironic, really, the story her mother had concocted to cover up her children’s betrayal. That she and her brother were both simply unwell.

Unwell, she thought.

Mother had made her taking acting classes when she was younger, to try and bring out a strong personality when she skated, she said, and it would certainly provide useful if she did any work for the Aether Foundation later in life.

Well, she hoped that she still remembered some of the old tricks of the trade.

“E-excuse me…” she stuttered, forcing herself to sound faint. She didn’t need to try to tremble – she already was, plenty. The Aether employee looked alarmed, her eyes widening.

“Miss Lillie, are you?”

Lillie breathed in deeply, swaying back and forth.

“I’m sorry, I – I need my medicine,” she said.

“Medicine, what medicine?” the employee said, clearly beginning to panic.

“Oh, it’s – my mother must have sent some with you, mustn’t she? She _knows_ I need my medicine, or I’ll –“

She began to breathe even faster, and the employee leapt to her feet, so stricken with fear that it made her almost feel guilty. The Primeape and Machoke, too, backed away from her, both equally at a loss. They were fighting Pokémon, not nursing Pokémon. The only thing they knew to do with an unwell human was to get help.

“Miss Lillie? What do I need to do? Do you need water?”

“Oh, my medicine’s in my hotel room, I was planning on going back for it…”

Lillie fell forward off the seat, hitting the floor, her face hidden in her arms. The employee let out a high-pitched squeal and leapt to her feet.

“Mister Faba! Mister Faba!” she squawked, her boots stomping as she ran away, Machoke and Primeape close on her tail.

Okay, so maybe she overdid it. Either way, he had the chance she needed. Lillie slipped her phone out of her pocket, hiding it beneath her as she texted, half-blind, hoping that Hala or _someone_ was near Hau’s phone even if he wasn’t.

She decided to lay where she was – the door was likely locked, and if she got up it would be obvious she had been faking it. For now, she needed to improvise, and hope help was on the way.

She could hear the employee arguing with Faba, faintly through the walls. She strained to hear

“Mister Faba! There’s something wrong with Miss Lillie. She needs her medicine!” the employee said.

“Her medicine? What medicine, you stuttering ninny?”

“She – she just went woozy and collapsed all of a sudden. She said she needs her medicine. Did Miss Lusamine give you any?”

“What? Of course not. I’ve never heard anything about the girl requiring medicine.”

“But she passed out! She’s really unwell! We should take her to a hospital.”

“She can go to the clinic in Aether Paradise when we return.”

Lillie decided to let off a volley of hacking coughs, so violent it made her ache right from her stomach to her chest. Faba and the Aether employee fell quiet. Perhaps silent, or perhaps speaking more quietly. She didn’t know whether Faba would buy it. He wasn’t stupid. She could only rely on the panic that he may unintentionally endanger Lusamine’s daughter.

Lillie finally picked out the employee saying something else:

“She said she had medicine in her hotel room. The journey is still a few hours long, in that time, she could…”

Yes, yes, Lillie thought. That was exactly what she needed them to be thinking. There was more discussion, quieter this time, and then the door opened, revealing Faba looking very disgruntled. Lillie stayed where she was.

“So the girl really collapsed?”

Lillie looked up, lifting her head.

“Ah, now she’s awake,” Faba said, very flatly. Lillie felt as though her chest was going to burst with tension – Faba clearly did not believe this. That was fine, in a way. She didn’t need him to believe it fully. She just needed him to doubt himself _just enough_ for this to work in her favour.

The Aether employee rushed over, helping her to her feet and shakily placing her on a chair, chattering all the while. At least Lillie didn’t need to try and pretend to shake and sweat, she thought ruefully.

“So, your hotel, girl, where is it?”

“I – I can take you there,” she said weakly.

“Ha. I think not,” Faba said, shaking his head, “I will retrieve it myself and you will stay _right where you are_.”

“I told them not to let anyone from Aether in…gave them some money,” she said, desperately hoping this sounded even the slightest bit believable.

Faba wavered, and then shook his head in disgust, looking down at her with a haughty smirk.

“That’s quite enough of your performance, Miss Lillie. We will depart for Aether Paradise immediately,” he said, ignoring the protests of his employee. He turned, and then shouted up for them to depart.

Lillie’s heart sank, and she very genuinely felt as though she were about to vomit.

“No, wait –“ she began, but then there was a huge crash and the whole ship jostled, and Lillie stumbled out of her seat for real this time.

“What on _earth_ –“ Faba began, but was cut off by an enormous roar, and the door to the ship blew open, as though torn off its hinges by a gust of wind.

Standing behind it was Moon, her expression contorted in utter fury. Hau stood behind her, his face pale, his hand between his Raichu’s ears.

“Now, who are you?”

“Who are _we_!” bellowed a voice, and Moon stepped aside to show Hala charging towards them, face scarlet with fury. He looked nothing like the large, kindly man Lillie had become familiar with. He looked every bit the powerful kahuna. Faba stumbled back, and the Aether employee hesitated, glancing at her employer and this other man.

“Now, now, there’s no need for hysterics,” Faba said, “This is private business –“

“Private business! Attacking a lone woman and dragging her away by force is _private business_ is it, now?” Hala replied.

“My dear man, you misunderstand me, this girl is deeply disturbed, she is not –“

Moon snorted.

“The only one ‘deeply disturbed’ here is you, you pompous nitwit,” Hala said, and then looked at Lillie, his tone softening completely, “Lillie, you step out of there. You do not have to go anywhere with these people.”

Lillie stood, finding the breath returning to her lungs. She rushed to the door, scrambling out, and Moon seized her hands immediately as she emerged, as though terrified Faba would try to take her back. Faba stared at them, at a loss of what to do next. She spotted Moon’s Charizard, perched on the hull of the ship – apparently Moon hadn’t waited around for a ride Pokémon to arrive.

“Her mother has sent me here with express orders to bring her home, she –“

“Is an adult, and can’t be forced to do anything she doesn’t want to,” Hala continued coolly, “Lillie, do you want to return to Aether Paradise?”

Lillie made a choking noise, and felt Moon squeeze her hand. Swallowing, she found her voice. Small and brittle as it was.

“No,” she said, “Never.”

“Well, there you have it!” Hala boomed, hands on his hips, “Now, if I see you anywhere near this young lady again, I will call the police.”

They all stared at one another.

“Sir, maybe we should just…go,” the Aether employee said, all the colour drained from her face.

“Ha. Fine. This has been an even bigger waste of my time than I anticipated,” Faba said, voice dripping with venom.

“Wait!” Lillie blurted out.

Faba turned to stare at her, as did Hau, Hala and Moon. Lillie stood, feeling very silly, but she should say _something_. If she was Moon, she would be able to say something cool, something that compressed all the strange, boiling feelings frothing inside her into one cutting statement.

She wasn’t Moon, though. She couldn’t say what she felt as clearly as that.

“Tell my mother, that I – I am not coming home,” she said finally, “And tell her I understand why Gladion left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do I look like a mail carrier?” Faba said, at the same second the Aether employee said: “Well, I’ll certainly try, Miss Lillie!”.

“And tell her I _did not_ take a hiatus because I was running from her!” Moon added.

(“Certainly not!” “O-oh, well, alright. Um. Who are you again?”)

“Ha! Right! And tell her something from me as well!” Hau yelled, over-excited as a puppy by all the noise and fuss, “Tell her Lillie will be taking the gold medal from her at the Grand Prix this year!”

Faba looked at them blankly, and the Aether employee gawked. That was all Lillie saw, before Raichu slammed the door shut on them again.

#

“I can’t believe you said that.”

It felt like the sixteenth time Lillie had said it. They had decided to retire from practice for the day, having agreed they had more than enough excitement for the day, and take a walk to Kala’e Bay.

“I’m sorry. I got all excited. We were all saying cool stuff! I wanted to join in,” Hau said, grinning, “It’s true though. You’ll win gold this year, I can feel it!”

Lillie rested her chin on her knees, staring out at the vast, rippling sea.

“That’s a little…”

“You said as much to Gladion,” Hau pointed out.

“Well, he’s my brother, and he was getting on my nerves…I lost my temper,” she said, pressing her forehead into her knees. Next to her, Moon made a jerking movement, as though about putting an arm around her and then thinking better of it. Lillie lifted her head up, arms wrapped tight around her legs.

“I don’t _actually_ think it’s possible for me to win, anyway,” Lillie continued, “Mother has never lost a single Grand Prix. The only time she _doesn’t_ win is when she’s too busy with the Aether Foundation to even enter.”

A school of Tentacool bobbed past, the tops of their heads breaking the surface of the water and gleaming red in the dim dusk light. Lillie leaned back, resting her elbows on the sand and turning her head up to look at the sky. A Fearow soared overhead – probably a trainer’s, judging by the lack of Spearow flocking behind it. She breathed out, resting her hand between Clefairy’s ears and scratching his fur.

“I’d be better off hunting Gladion down and taking back my dumb wager,” she said miserably.

“Then you _don’t_ want to win gold?” Hau asked, twisting his mouth in confusion. Lillie fiddled with her hat, her lips pressed into a thin line. It didn’t matter what she _wanted_ , it mattered what was _realistic._ She could want to win as much as she liked, it didn’t mean it would happen.

She’d never really been meant to win gold, anyway. At least not until her mother retired.

Even then, it wouldn’t have been her victories. It would have been mother’s.

“Hey, Hau, I think your Raichu’s having an issue over there,” Moon said suddenly, pointing to where Hau’s Raichu was hovering over the waves, having placed himself between a trio of very large Mareanie and a terrified-looking Corsola. It looked like an argument ready to boil over into a fight at any second.

“Aw, dang!” Hau said, leaping to his feet and rushing over, “Hey, buddy, need a hand?”

Lillie smiled as she watched Hau scoop the Corsola up, shouting out an order and jabbing a finger towards the Mareanie. Her smile faded as it descended into a battle, and she looked down to observe her own toes in the sand.

She still didn’t really like watching Pokémon battles very much.

“Lillie.”

She looked up at Moon. Moon was still watching the Pokémon battle, but there was something in the tension in her shoulders and the way her hand clutched at her shorts that told Lillie she wasn’t paying it any attention.

“ _Do_ you want to win gold?” Moon asked finally.

Did she? It wasn’t really a question she’d ever been asked. Even since father died, she couldn’t say she’d been asked what she wanted an enormous amount. The issue is, when you are never asked what you want, you never think about it, so when the time comes that somebody does ask, you never know what to say.

It was strange – in some ways, she felt as though she should say no. She should say she doesn’t care, that she doesn’t even want to skate again. She wants to say that she wants to leave and do something completely unconnected to her mother and her legacy, or her father and his. Doing that, and defying everything she’d been brought up with, felt like the sort of thing a character like her should do in a movie, at this moment.

Yet she couldn’t. She still remembered, too fondly and too well, growing up with Gladion in Aether Paradise, her mother teaching her how to balance, their father watching them on his breaks from work, still in his labcoat, laughing as the twins raced and slid around the ice.

Before her mother had changed, it had been fun. Even afterwards, sometimes, in those moments between her mother pushing them both, between Gladion growing more and more angry and distant, between her mother’s encouragement morphing into insults and disappointment, it had occasionally still been something Lillie loved.

“I…think I do,” Lillie said slowly, embarrassed to even hear the words leaving her mouth. She’d never really said as much before.

“Then…why don’t we try to make it happen?” Moon said, finally, “Lusamine isn’t a _goddess_. She isn’t perfect. You have much of a chance of winning as she does.”

Lillie couldn’t bring herself to reply.

“Besides, you’ve already thrown down the gauntlet. Better to be hung as a Gyarados than a Magikarp,” Moon continued, grinning at her.

“Well, if we’re going to do this, we need to hurry up and come up with a free programme in time for globals…”

They were interrupted by the return of Hau and Raichu, Raichu still crackling with electricity and looking very pleased with himself.

“Man, those Mareanie were jerks,” he said, “But I think we taught them a lesson about ganging up on little Pokémon. I put the Corsola back in the water. Hopefully she should be able to get home okay from here.”

“Are you sure about that?” Moon asked, pointing behind her. Hau turned, and Lillie saw the same tiny Corsola toddled towards them through the sand, making a lot of chittering and squeaking noises.

“Oh! Hey there little pal,” Hau said, crouching down to look at her. The Corsola jabbed something towards him, held between two of her prongs. It was a little, glittering red shard of something or another.

“Is this for me?” he asked, amused. Corsola chittered, jiggling in what Lillie thought was an affirmative sort of way.

“That’s a Star Piece,” Moon said, “They’re worth like um, well like 5000 yen back home. Dunno what they’re worth here. Either way, I think she’s paying you for your services.”

Corsola chirped as Hau took the piece of star, holding it up into the thinning dusk light with a grin.

“Woah, thanks, little lady!” Hau said. The Corsola chirped in a self-satisfied sort of way, and then toddled over to where Raichu was hovering above the sand, curled up on his tail.

“Can I have a look at that?” Lillie said slowly. Hau shrugged and passed her the little shard of star. It felt smooth and cool in her hands, as though she were actually holding a sliver of the night sky in her hands. She glanced over to where Clefairy was ambling over to Raichu and Corsola, curious to meet this newcomer.

“Moon?” she said, turning to find Moon already staring at her. For some reason, Moon jerked away with a flush, apparently embarrassed to have been caught staring. Lillie shook it off – she didn’t really have time to worry about Moon’s eccentricities right now.

“I think I have an idea for my free programme.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was a song from a film.

That wasn’t the sort of thing Lusamine had ever particularly approved of – she had always rolled her eyes at skaters that took their music from films or TV shows, outright curled her lip when their routines reflected it in some way. Tacky, she called it. Even before Lillie’s father died, she’d said much the same.

Lillie hadn’t really watched many films growing up, aside from the occasional old-school romance or musical. Lusamine much more enjoyed novels, and both of her children took after her in this regard.

This was one film her Father had liked, however, so Lillie and Gladion had seen it a lot growing up.

It was an Unovan film, with lots of big explosions and cheesy dialogue. The characters were such embarrassing stereotypes that when the Kanto military general, a character who only seemed to exist to be subject to the wise-cracks of the main character, came on screen Lillie could only bury her face in her hands and moan apologies at Moon.

Moon only laughed, clapping appreciatively whenever she showed up onscreen.

It was a movie about Pokémon coming from beyond the stars and attacking earth. All the world’s nations had to come together and put together an elite force of trainers to fight them off. The main character was a down-on-his-luck trainer, one who had won the league in previous years, but was now washed up and sad. The only reason he could be convinced to join the battle at all, really, was the fact his old rival was joining the battle as well, and he couldn’t let himself be outdone.

After a lot of nonsensical action sequences, buckets of cringe-worthy banter, several scenes in which the Kanto general shouted at the main character for being a loose cannon with crazy ideas, and two fairly unconvincing romantic subplots (Lillie privately thought the main character had much more convincing sexual tension with his rival), it ended with the main character and his rival going to space to face down the leader space Pokémon, an approximation of Deoxys from before anyone actually _knew_ anything about Deoxys.

It was a pretty tragic mess, really. She remembered that her, father and Gladion had really loved it, back in the day, while mother had simply endured through it. To her surprise, she found herself sympathising with her mother for the first time in a long time as she re-watched it.

As the final act came to a close, the sort-of-mostly-vaguely-Deoxys was defeated and the main character endured one final blow which disconnected him from his ship and sent him hurtling, unprotected, into the void of space. At that point, the sound cut out from the film. Lillie supposed  it was to simulate the feeling of being in the void of space. All hope seemed lost for the main character – his rival and his Pokémon disappeared into the distance, and the camera lingered on his pale face as his eyes began to close.

It was then there was a brilliant cry, and music began to swell – a bright, triumphant, sweeping orchestral song. In the dark of space, Clefable, glowing white as stars, began to appear around the main character, casting shimmering waves of light over him. The camera panned out as the main character was brought back to life and, very briefly, flew among the stars with the Clefable before returning to earth, where his family, his rival (somehow? Wasn’t he in space five seconds ago?), the recalcitrant military general, and Love Interest #2 waited for him.

It was a strangely beautiful song for such an underwhelming mess of a movie. Even as she watched it, her legs folded under her on the sofa, not daring to glance at Moon for embarrassment at how blinded by nostalgia she’d been about this movie, the whole scene in space made something squeeze, tight and strange around her heart.

Her father’s favourite scene had always been the final battle before Deoxys appeared, a choreographed Pokémon battle in space, with lots of scientifically impossible explosions and a triumphant pop-rock song. Gladion had always liked the scene where everything seemed impossible for the lead character, and he was looking very sad and very cool in the rain until his rival turned up to give him a pep talk and challenge him to overcome the vague conflict he was undergoing. Mother had always liked when the movie finally ended and she could get back to her bloody life already.

For Lillie though, that short, hammy scene with the Clefable had always been her favourite.

As the credits finally began to roll (to an acoustic version of aforementioned pop rock song), Lillie finally dared glance over at Moon. She sat beside her with her elbows on her knees, face tense with concentration and her fingers laced together beneath her nose. It looked as though she were thinking very, very hard about something. Lillie hoped that something wasn’t what an utter imbecile Lillie was.

“I didn’t think you liked action flicks,” she said. Lillie’s face burned.

“Oh, I – I don’t, really. I can’t say I like many contemporary movies – this is one of the only ones I’ve ever seen,” she admitted, and then shook her head, “What about the scene with the Clefable? Isn’t it pretty? I want to skate to something like this. It’s so…ethereal.”

“Ethereal, hm?” Moon said, and leaned back on the couch, resting her cheek against the back of the sofa and observing Lillie with an odd look in her eye, “It suits you.”

Lillie couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t involve her chittering like an imbecile and turning the colour of a tamato berry. She settled for returning her gaze to the screen, pretending the credits were very interesting.

“And,” Moon said, sitting cross-legged beside her, “I know what to do.”

#

The new choreography Moon had put together was a million miles from the Song of Tapu Koko, but equally as challenging. It was an elegant, precise routine. It was designed to invoke the feelings of space, so Lillie needed to be practically weightless. Her jumps needed to be high, elevated by Clefairy’s powers, and her landings almost noiseless.

The idea was contrast – from her declaration of battle under Tapu Koko’s blazing sun, to her display of effortless power and freedom in the night sky. It was all about showing the world who she really was. Or something like that. Lillie had a lot of jumbled ideas in her head, but if asked to explain her concept she got embarrassed.

Hau kept pestering her about it, all open eagerness and a complete lack of self-consciousness. Mostly, Lillie just blushed and preoccupied herself with her food or pointed out some Pokémon to distract Hau’s attention.

She wished she could boil down the theme to a word. If she qualified for the next stage of the tournament, she would need to be able to.

Yet she felt blocked, unable to articulate it. When she wasn’t practising, she found herself doing nothing aside from pacing and around and around in her room, chewing on her thumbnail and irritating Clefairy.

When she wasn’t thinking about that, she was thinking about Faba coming to get her. The lingering, gut-clenching fear her mother would try to get some more Aether employees to drag her home, convinced she was ‘disturbed’.

Well, you had spoken it into reality, Lillie thought viciously, one more sleepless night. If she wasn’t disturbed before, that whole mess certainly had left her highly strung.

“Right, okay, that’s it,” Moon said one evening, as Lillie shifted food around her plate, bounced her leg up and down, and barely ate a bite. Lillie looked up, surprised.

“You’re stressed,” Moon said, and then raised a finger when Lillie opened her mouth to argue, “You _are_. Now here’s what I want you to do. I want you to find something to do that _isn’t_ skating. Just a hobby you can take up on evenings.”

“What’s the point of that?” Lillie spluttered. Moon looked at her, expression inscrutable – she almost looked _sad_.

“It’ll help you relax,” she said, and then dug in her pockets and fished out a few crumpled notes, sliding them across the dinner table towards Lillie, “Here. I hereby say that these funds may be used for _nothing_ aside from something nice and totally non-skating-related to you. _And_ you can’t return it. This is my order as your _coach._ ”

Lillie glowered, almost mutinous. Moon just grinned that carefree grin of hers and drained the last of her beer.

“Finally - I want you to spend it by the end of the week," she said, then the corner of her mouth twitched up, “Or I’ll make you do 100 push-ups every night until it’s gone.”

Lillie dropped her gaze to the money sitting between them, scrunching her face.

Moon Asada was pure, unadulterated _evil_.

#

When she had been younger, she had spent a lot of time drawing and painting. Her mother had hired tutors, good ones, and she had gotten quite good at it. After father died and her mother became more serious both about the Aether foundation and her skating career, she had fallen out of the habit but it was something she missed.

So. What better way to get back into it than by designing the costumes for her programmes?

And, while that was sort of to do with skating, and therefore productive and not a waste of time, it was still unrelated enough to fit Moon’s standards for a ‘fun’ thing. Ha!

Pleased with her strategy, Lillie used one of her few spare moments and snuck into an art supply shop in Hau’oli City. The money Moon had all but forced on her clenched in a trembling hand, she bought herself a sketchbook, some pencils, a set of brushes, and some watercolours.

…Lillie still didn’t have a very good grasp of money, but she was certain Moon had given her considerably more money than was reasonable.

Maybe she could paint something for Moon. To say thank you. It was the least she could do considering how much the other woman had inexplicably decided to devote to Lillie.

Especially as they hadn’t even discussed her coaching fees yet. Lillie wasn’t even convinced she could pay them. She was willing to bet she no longer had any access to her inheritance money. Gladion had been summarily cut off after he left, and while she’d never had the courage to test this theory, Lillie suspected Lusamine hadn’t extended any more mercy towards her.

She would be even less merciful now Lillie had actively refused to come home.

So, after Moon had fallen asleep on the couch downstairs, and Kukui had retreated to bed for the night (usually late, often with a black eye after tussling with some Pokémon to ‘study’ it), Lillie sat and painted. It took her fingers a while to remember the movements, the precise way to hold the paintbrush and how to watch where her pencil was moving towards, rather than where it was moving from. It came back in trickles, and then in floods, and Lillie was surprised to find her old skills hadn’t completely abandoned her.

That was, until she tried to sit down and put her actual design ideas to paper. As solid as they were in her head, the more slippery and shapeless they became when she painted it. The more impressive and clever it looked in her imagination, the more clumsy and tepid it was when she committed it to paper. She couldn’t remember art being so _frustrating_ before.

Hissing in irritation with herself, she tore out the page she was working on and tossed it to the ground. Clefairy perked up from his basket, tottering towards her with a concerned, warbling note.

“I’m fine, Clefairy,” she said, reaching down to scratch him behind the ear, “I should just let Moon decide on the costumes for me.”

Clefairy picked up the drawing she’d tossed down, examining it carefully. Flushing, Lillie snatched it back, embarrassed to even have her Pokémon look at it. Crumpling it fiercely, she tossed it into the bin. Clefairy gave her a stern look, flicking his ears.

“Oh, don’t look like that, Clefairy,” she said, “It wasn’t any good.”

Clefairy swung his tail side to side, clearly unconvinced. He wouldn’t be persuaded. He was too sweet to _not_ see the best in her work.

She sighed and stood with a stretch. Time for bed. Maybe she would feel better about this in the morning.

#

She did not feel better about it in the morning. In fact, if anything it ate at her even more. The entire point of this exercise was that she was supposed to be spending time relaxing, and instead she had contrived to make it something else to worry about it. _Honestly_. Her brother was probably right – she was far too highly strung.

Another day of practising her programmes, switching between her short programme to _The Song of Tapu Koko_ and the free programme to _Hero in the Stars_ she was still trying to get to grips with, and Lillie was ready to collapse straight into bed on returning home. The last thing she wanted to do was actually try to put her mind to something.

Working with Moon was much, much different to working with her mother. With mother, her every action was plotted out, from when she woke up to when she went to sleep, and every aspect of her training and her programmes were planned in advance. While Moon certainly supplied a lot, she kept… _asking_ things of Lillie. What time she wanted to start practice tomorrow. Whether they should add a cantilever to the second half of her free programme. What did she think of this idea? Of this? What about if they did this? Or this? What did she _think_?

It felt as though this was the first time she’d ever actually skated, even though she’d been competing professionally since she was 14. Or that she’d been asleep for all those years. Now she was finally awake.

The problem was that being awake turned out to be _exhausting_.

As the music of her free programme slowed to a stop, she hydrobladed back to the centre of the ice, spun and struck the final pose of her free programme, chin tilted back and hands resting gently on her chest. Her legs shook and her leotard clung to her, soaked with sweat.

She finally straightened her head, daring to look across at where Moon was watching her, arms folded, expression pensive.

She was clearly thinking about the same issues Lillie had been thinking about the whole time – Lillie’s uneven pacing, her occasional under or over-rotations, the lack of height in her jumps. Plus, Clefairy still had yet to master his own half of the routine. They still looked more like two separate creatures out on the ice, rather than two halves of the same whole.

“Alright, let’s take a break and run through it again,” Moon said finally. She rubbed her chin but then, catching a glimpse of Lillie's expression, forced a smile.

“You’re getting there! Really. It’s going to be beautiful when you’ve perfected it. Just…try to smile a bit more, okay?”

It wasn’t enough, Lillie thought. She wasn’t good enough at this.

Lillie shook her head and departed the ice, her whole body aching.

“Hey, Lil, that was awesome!” Hau shouted, rushing up to meet her. Lillie tilted her head and noticed with amusement that he was being tailed by the Corsola, tottering on the flat ground. It looked like the same one from the beach.

“Are you raising her now?” she asked.

“Huh?” Hau asked, and then glanced behind him at the Corsola, “Oh, her? Haha, not exactly. She’s just kind of started following me around sometimes. She doesn’t seem to be want to be caught though…”

“Nice to see you have another admirer,” Moon said, leaning against the barrier with an amused smile, “So, what brings you here – your practice hours aren’t for a while yet. Need something from us?”

“Um. Well it’s not really a need, just…uh,” Hau said, and then scratched the back of his head, “Well, Team Skull are kind of causing problems at Big Wave Beach, and it looks like nobody’s really managing to get them under control. Moon, would you help me out? They’re really stressing out all the Pokémon there!”

Moon stood up straight, and then glanced at Lillie. After a slight nod from her, she grinned and cracked her knuckles.

“Happy to.”

#

“Yo yo yo, let us surf or it’ll be _your_ grill hitting the waves, brah.”

“No, no, absolutely not. You people are _all_ banned from using any of our surfing Mantine and you know it – _no!_ ”

As Hau had promised, Big Wave Beach was in chaos. The staff dashed back and forth, dragging Team Skull members out of the water, the Mantine glubbbed loudly and swam around in wild patterns, one with a Team Skull member hanging from his tail (“Yooooooo!”). A couple of Team Skull grunts has invented some kind of game that seemed to mostly involve throwing Pyukumuku at one another. Finally, one was insisting on trying to ‘surf’ on the back of his Muk, to everyone else’s disgust and horror.

The poor surf staff were completely overwhelmed, the would-be surfers bemused, and nobody seemed to be having any luck getting the situation under control.

Lillie watched in horror as a Pyukumuku, squealing, sailed through the air and landed in the water with a splosh, sending one of the Mantine crashing into the Muk. The Muk wobbled and its trainer fell off into the water yet again.

She didn’t see how she and Clefairy would be _any_ help to this utter fiasco at all.

Moon, on the other hand, looked delighted.

“Ha! Wow, these guys haven’t changed at all, huh?” she said.

Hau sighed.

“No. Honestly, I think they’re _worse_ lately. I don’t get why!”

“Ha, well. Let’s just whip them into shape the way we used to,” Moon said. Leaving Lillie bemused as to what that was meant to mean, she threw Primarina’s ball down to the beach and then leapt down to join her Pokémon.

“Hey!” Moon shouted as she landed, whipping off her sunglasses. Primarina sang a sharp note, curling around behind her. The Team Skull grunts stopped what they were doing, bemused, and stared at the tiny girl who had just appeared before them.

“Yo, you spoiling for a fight, little lady?” one of the Team Skull grunts said, dropping the Pyukumuku she was holding to the sand. It wiggled away, squeaking in earnest relief.

“Yeah, actually,” Moon replied, stepping forward, “Think you can take me?”

Hau and Lillie ran down the slope to join her. The Team Skull members looked alarmed – Lillie suspected that a lot of them weren’t used to people picking fights with them. Most people told them to go away but were too scared to actually pit their Pokémon against them (in case Plumeria or Guzma came to reap revenge). Judging by the shocked expressions on the other beach-goers’ faces, the last thing they’d anticipated was some tiny buff woman in short-shorts appearing out of the blue to save them.

The Team Skull girl who had been hurling the Pyukumuku glowered at her, and her gaze briefly flicked to Lillie, standing behind Moon with her Clefairy in her arms.

“Guh! I don’t want to be shown up in front of some cute girl,” she said, and then twisted her head around to shout at her team mates, “Hey! Come on you ninnies! We got a battle to win!”

The assembled Team Skull members all started tossing out Pokémon – mostly common ones like Raticate or Diglett – and shouting orders. Hau and Moon responded in kind, Moon guiding her Pokémon in battle with the exact same ease she managed to do so on the ice. Lillie lingered uselessly begins them, spending most of her time dodging stray attacks.

Even Lillie could tell that Hau and Moon were the better trainers, but the Team Skull members had sheer numbers on their side, and both Hau and Moon’s Pokémon were more used to ice skating than battling these days. The Pokémon causing the most problems, as far as Lillie’s untrained eye could tell, was the wannabe surfer’s Muk. Neither Hau nor Moon trained a ground type. Primarina seemed especially at a disadvantage, with the amount of poison attacks being tossed around.

Eventually, Hau’s team was worn down to his Raichu, panting heavily and sagging in mid-air. Of Moon’s team, Charizard was still in the fight, as was Lurantis. Despite that, the Pokémon on Team Skull’s side looked far, far worse. It was only a matter of time before Hau and Moon won out.

“What _are_ you idiots doing?” a voice said from above them. Lillie would recognise that voice anywhere. She jerked her head up to see Gladion standing on the cliff above them. Just like Moon, he jumped down to the beach below, landing with one hand on the sand.

Lillie was pretty sure she heard Hau mutter ‘Drama queen’.

As she was very, very certain she’d seen a character from one of his favourite anime do that exact thing before, she was inclined to agree.

The Team Skull grunts, on the other hand, looked like children who had just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Even their Pokémon somehow managed to look reticent.

Lillie hated to admit it, but the expression on Gladion’s face in that moment was _exactly_ like mother’s when she was angry.

“’Ey, yo, we were just trying to reclaim our right to surf!” pipes up one of the Grunts, prompting waves of ‘That’s right, yo!’ and ‘Word!’ across the grunts. Gladion massaged his temples.

“That’s right, yo!" one continued, "Our girl Plumeria woulda –“

“Well, Plumeria isn’t here,” Gladion interrupted coldly, “And in case you forgot, she put _me_ in charge of you imbeciles.”

That shut them up. With the Team Skull grunts all looking at their toes and shifting from foot to foot, Gladion turned his gaze on the three of them. He glanced briefly at Lillie, avoided Hau’s eye entirely, until finally settling on Moon. He blinked.

“So you’re still here.”

“Yep!” Moon said cheerfully, “And you still dress like that, huh?”

“Why does _everyone_ take issue with the way I dress…” Gladion muttered, but then shook his head, “Wait, that’s not the point. Why are you still here?”

Moon laughed, clearly not remotely intimidated by Gladion. Lillie was glad for it. It was weird, watching everyone be intimidated by her dorky big brother, like he hadn’t spent most of his life dressed in bow-ties, sweatervests, and sparkly leotards. All picked out by his mother, of course.

“I’m Lillie’s coach!” Moon said, twisting a braid around her finger, “Duh.”

Gladion stared at her for a moment and then turned his attention to Lillie.

“Lillie, surely you weren’t serious about challenging mother.”

Lillie straightened up and took a few steps forward, her fists clenched.

“Of course I was,” she said, “I’m not – I’m not scared of her!”

It was a complete lie, but it felt good to say. Besides, it was clear Gladion still _was_. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be running around with Team Skull or insisting Lillie keep a low profile.

One of them needed to be brave and, for the first time in Lillie’s life, it was clear that it wasn’t going to be Gladion.

“Yo, what they talking about?” a Team Skull grunt very loudly said behind them, but in a tone that suggested he was certain he was whispering.

“Man, don’t you know? Ol’ Gladdo’s the heir to the Aether Foundation _and_ the Aether skating legacy,” one replied, in that same faux-whisper, “That’s his sis, the little lady that crashed and burned at the Grand Prix last year.”

“Legit? How come he ain’t never talk about it?”

“I’m thinkin’ that since figure skatin’ ain’t traditionally considered a masculine sport, he’d be embarrassed to talk about that with the gang, yo.”

“You serious? Man, that’s got me worried. If he thinks we’d be anything less than positive about such a sport that demands such frickin’ athleticism and some hardcore artistic chops…you think as a group we endorse toxic ideals about masculinity? Seriously, yo, I _ain’t_ into inadvertently replicating oppressive patriarchal structures that as a sub-culture we should be actively trying to resist.”

“Ya know what, bro? That totally merits discussion, we should –“

“Will you two idiots _shut up_!” Gladion barked at them. The two debating grunts fell silent. Next to Lillie, Hau giggled into his hand. Looking a bit pink in the face, Gladion covered his eye with a hand.

“I thought you’d give this up as a fool’s errand before globals,” he said, “You don’t know what –“

“Gladion, I know _perfectly_ well. I grew up with her too,” she said hotly, “And she tried to _kidnap_ me.”

Whatever he was about to say died in his throat, mouth agape. He looked like he'd been struck.

Lillie chewed on her lower lip - she  _had_ to explain now. She toyed with Clefairy’s ear, trying to find the right words to explain. She decided being blunt was probably the best option.

“Faba turned up and tried to drag me back to Aether Paradise.”

Gladion chewed on his lower lip.

“She’s becoming desperate…the rumours must be beginning to seriously hurt her reputation. One child running off is poor luck, two children running away is a pattern. More than that, it's a _scandal,_ ” he said, mostly to himself, and then looked at Lillie directly, “The situation is worse than I thought. You should abandon this plan and get away from Melemele. We could offer you shelter at Po Town –“

“ _Gladion!_ ” Lillie interrupted, “That won’t help. I don’t want to run away from her forever.”

“Yeah, what is your problem?” Hau said, making Lillie jump. She’d almost forgotten that Hau and Moon were even there.  On turning his gaze to Hau, Gladion's expression was furious enough to be confusing. He hadn't said anything  _that_ bad, Lillie thought.

“Excuse me?” he replied.

“You’re just being a total downer, is all,” Hau said, putting his hands behind his head with an easy-going grin, “You need to stop being so serious. Lillie’s a great skater! She’ll win, easy-peasy.”

Gladion gave Hau such a look that the Team Skull grunts mumbled something about former appointments and slid away.

“I shouldn’t expect someone who puts half-efforts into everything to understand,” he said, “You act happy-go-lucky because you’re too scared to actually take anything seriously. And that’s why you _can’t_ understand the sheer pressure Lillie and I have been under since we were children.”

Lillie was bewildered – she knew Gladion had never really liked Hau, but she couldn’t help but think that was brutal, even for him. Living half-wild with Team Skull had made him even rougher around the edges than before.

“ _Yikes_ ,” Moon muttered, and then stepped forward as Hau tried to splutter out a retort, “Look, look, that’s enough! Gladion, you know you can’t tell Lillie what to do. She wants to go to the Grand Prix this year, and as her coach I am going to do everything in my power to take her there. And all that way, I _won’t_ let Lusamine hurt her. I swear.”

Gladion glowered at Moon, clearly only half convinced. Moon’s Charizard breathed out a plume of flame, as if to provide proof of his trainer’s promise. He shrugged and turned away, looking as though he were about to stalk off to some obtuse Team Skull hide-out. Lillie leapt forward and grabbed his forearm.

For a second, she couldn’t speak. After a second, she swallowed, finding her voice and keeping hold of it.

“Come to globals, okay? I promise you’ll see me skate against mother. I - I’ll win against her _there_. I won’t even need to reach the Grand Prix.”

What was with her and making insane promises she couldn’t keep, lately?

Gladion stared at her, eyes wide, and then shook his head, wrenching his arm from her grip. Clicking his fingers at the last Team Skull grunts still lingered in the sands, he stalked off, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Lillie sighed. Moon reached over and rubbed a circle into her upper back, warm and comforting.

#

“You awake?”

Lillie sat up in bed, seeing the top of Moon’s head peeking over at her from the ladder.

“Yeah,” she sighed, voice barely above a breath. She had laid down, fully intending to get an early night, but just found the whole messy encounter with Gladion going around and around in her head. She had tried to draw, but she couldn’t even find the designs she’d been working on the other day and trying to start from scratch had only ended with her tossing her sketchbook across the room in frustration. She’d tried to read, and the words had just spiked together. Nothing eased the knot in her stomach or made her stop replaying the events of the day over and over in her head.

“I figured,” Moon said, and climbed to the top of the ladder, a bit awkwardly. Lillie immediately saw why – she was holding two mugs, both filled almost to the brim with thick, dark Tapu Cocoa. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she passed one to Lillie. It was hot and sweet, better than the stuff they served at Pokémon Centres. Moon had put in a few fluffy white marshmallows, shaped like Meowth faces.

Lillie hadn’t known hot chocolate was a speciality of Moon’s.

Really, she didn’t know much about Moon at all. She didn’t even know why she was _here._

Not only that, but Lillie couldn't understand why she was _still_ here. Not after all the family drama Lillie had dragged her into. Any normal person would have quit by now, bowled over by what a complicated mess it all was. Instead, Moon stayed, even tried to protect her, as though she were somehow important. Like Moon had a genuine reason to care, beyond her impulsive decision to go into coaching. It was all so strange, she felt as though she were missing something vital, something so obvious she daren't even ask.

“I have a brother too,” Moon said suddenly. Lillie looked up.

“Oh, yes, you’ve mentioned him!” she said, “Sun, isn’t it? You said he was training to be a gym leader back in Kanto…”

“Haha, yeah. We’re twins. Mom thought the themed naming thing was cute,” Moon replied, smiling into her hot chocolate. Lillie laughed – she knew too well how that was.

“It was the same for me and Gladion,” she said, “I didn’t know you were a twin as well.”

“Yeah! Weird, right?” she said, grinning, and then something seemed to occur to her, “Wait, how are Lillie and Gladion theme names?”

“His full name is Gladiolus. It’s a type of flower,” she said, laughing, “He hates it.”

“Ha! It doesn’t seem like he likes much,” Moon replied, grinning.

“Well…I don’t know. He’s much more of a softy than you’d think. He genuinely loves Pokémon,” she said, “He just acts mean, especially when he’s scared.”

“Scared?” Moon repeated, “He mostly seemed angry to me.”

Lillie shook her head. It was too difficult to explain. Gladion was scared senseless of Lusamine. Lillie had always thought of Gladion was the brave one. He’d found the courage to run away first, and he’d always been the first to argue back against mother or rebel against her rules, even when Lillie was cowering and following her directives by the letter.

Lately, she wasn’t so sure. How brave was it to still be running, after all this time?

“What’s Sun like?” she asked instead. Moon laughed, and Lillie could only blink, wondering what was so strange about that.

“Sorry, it’s just…” she said, gesturing vaguely, “Most people have heard of him.”

“What? That’s not – most people have heard of _you!_ You’re a world class skater!”

“Most people don’t really follow skating, Lillie,” Moon said, clearly amused. Lillie pouted. She knew that. On an intellectual level. It didn’t make the idea seem less ridiculous.

“Oh, Moon, stop being mean and just tell me about your brother!” Lillie huffed, “So he’s famous for…battling, I suppose?”

“Ha, yeah, Sun’s thing is Pokémon battling. Unlike me, he actually finished his island challenge. When we moved back to Kanto, he steam-rolled the gyms and the Elite Four there, too,” she said and tilted her head, “He specialises in ghost type Pokémon. He’s not really creepy like most ghost trainers, though. Just kind of weird. I think you’d like him.”

“I’m sure I would,” she said, smiling, until something occurred to her, “Can I ask…why didn’t you finish the island challenge? You're clearly a fantastic trainer, I'm sure you could have done it easily.”

Moon turned pink, the blush spreading right to the tips of her ears.

“Er. Well. I kind of…well, I ended up getting into ice-skating, not long after I started. Popplio liked that way more than she liked battling,” she said, “At some point, battles started being a hobby and skating started getting serious. It was like they switched places. I ended up ditching the challenge to skate more seriously.”

“So you just…ended up skating instead?” Lillie asked, bemused and endeared at the same time. It was a very Moon thing to just stumble into her profession by accident.

“Ha! Basically,” she said, “Well, that and like…”

Moon swallowed a mouthful of hot chocolate, looking bashful. It was strange to see – she was normally so confident. Outright cocky, some would say. It made Lillie feel as though she were seeing something special, somehow.

“Well, okay, I’ve never told anyone this but…” she said, “Sun was better than me at battling. He always was. And I was getting a bit like. Okay, so if we keep going like this, it felt like always going to be me just being like…a slightly worse version of my older bro. So I was like. Screw it. I’m going to take this other thing I love - this thing I’m starting to love way more than I expected - and blow everyone’s minds at _that_ instead.”

She fell quiet, and Lillie couldn’t help but be awed. That was brilliant and crazy and brave and so very, very like Moon. Instead of being content with her lot, she’d decided to leave it behind and carve out her own space with her bare hands. She was incredible.

Still, Lillie couldn't help but wonder...

“Do you think that’s what _I_ should be doing?” Lillie blurted out, unable to help herself.

“Huh?”

“Instead of…trying to beat Mother at her own game, should I just…do something completely different, like Gladion is?”

Moon huffed out a sigh, blowing up her bangs. She leaned back, rolling her mug between her palms.

“That depends. Would that be something you did because you genuinely wanted to, or because you felt like you should?” she said, looking down at the dregs of her hot chocolate, “I think…whether you’re doing something to please Lusamine or to spite her, she’s still controlling you. In a way.”

Lillie frowned, turning that over in her head. It felt like, no matter what she did, her decision was about her mother, somehow or another. Or that someone could _say_ it was about her mother, which was almost worse. She didn’t want that. She wanted to be genuinely, completely making her own decisions for herself. Was that even possible for someone who had had all of her decisions taken from her for so long?

“I mean, I don’t know! I’ve never dealt with anything like this myself,” Moon said, interrupting Lillie’s train of thought with a quick squeeze around the shoulders.

“I suppose I’ve ran my mouth enough that I’ll need to compete this season regardless,” Lillie said, smiling. Thinking about it now, with Moon's arm warm around her shoulders and chocolate lingering on her tongue, it seemed more thrilling than terrifying.

“Well, nothing wrong with that. You can do this, and then you can decide whether you want to retire or not. Either way, give Lusamine a piece of your mind on the way,” Moon said. Lillie laughed, draining the last of her hot chocolate and setting it on the dresser.

“…Thank you, Moon,” she said, “I feel better.”

“Glad to hear it,” Moon said, nudging her shoulder against Lillie, “It’s what I’m here for.”

She got up, scooping up her mug and Lillie’s, before turning to head down the ladder.

“Get some sleep, Lillie. We’ll be hitting the rink early in the morning.”

Lillie smiled at her and lay back down, tugging her blankets up to her chin. The anxiety crushing her ribs had ebbed away to nothing, and she soon found herself drifting off to an easy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent ages agonising over whether to remove the Team Skull exchange, considering I actually intentionally write the Pokémon world as pretty...non-patriarchal. Ultimately being funny won over consistency in world-building here. Chill out Clefairy, it's Pokémon.
> 
> Making up plots for in-universe media is honestly so fun. I'm imagining the movie Lillie picked as being like, a mash-up of Top Gun, Pacific Rim, and Armageddon, only there's also Pokémon.
> 
> It also cracks me up to imagine that like 'rival from your childhood Pokémon journey' is an actual category of relationship in-universe, and a total cliché for stuff like buddy cop movies and romcoms. Can you imagine. Every single in-universe Hallmark movie is about running into your former journey rival as adults under wacky circumstances, and every single in-universe action flick is about reuniting with your rival as an adult to do One Last Score. God.


	6. Chapter 6

“One two three, one two three – c’mon, Lillie!” Moon shouted from the side of the rink. Lillie breathed in and out heavily as she under-rotated and stumbled across the ice, catching herself with her palm. Again. Another fumble.

Globals were only a week away. She needed to have this perfect by then if she wanted to reach the Grand Prix. If she wanted to be able to look her mother in the eye. If she wanted to be able to help Gladion.

Judging by the exasperated expression on Moon’s face, she wasn’t there yet.

“Let’s take a break,” she said, shaking her head.

“No, I’m not tired,” Lillie lied, ignoring the way Clefairy leaned against her ankle, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “Let’s run it again.”

Moon drummed her fingers against the barrier of the rink, her brow furrowed.

Moon wanted her to practice, sure, but Moon was also weirdly preoccupied with her _resting_. As though Lillie had time for that. As though anything would get done by her lounging on the sofa. If she wasn’t practicing her programme, she should at least be exercising.

They didn’t even have Lillie’s _costumes_ yet. They were so behind.

“Clefairy needs a break,” Moon said diplomatically.

“We’re _fine_ ,” Lillie insisted. At her words, Clefairy straightened up, puffing his chest out and letting out a confident few notes. She smiled down at him.

Moon looked as though she wanted to see something else, when she was interrupted by the doors swinging open. Kukui and Burnet entered, Kukui carrying a package in his arms.

“Hey, girls! Something came for you this morning,” he said.

“A package?” Lillie asked, skating to the edge of the rink curiously.

“Yeah. Note said it was important,” Burnet said, “Looks like it’s from Kanto.”

Moon bolted towards Burnet and Kukui. Lillie paused on the ice, momentarily too curious about what would get Moon so excited to keep practicing. Moon twisted her head around, beaming at her.

“You better come here, Lillie. This’ll be for you,” she said, and then thrust the package into her hands as soon as she arrived, “Open it carefully though.”

Lillie blinked down at the package in her hands. It was soft and light, wrapped in pale brown paper, with a note in handwriting Lillie didn’t recognise. Puzzled, she carefully tore the paper and unwrapped it. It was two items, both soft and wrapped in clear plastic. One was midnight indigo, and the other burnished gold.

Anxiety coiling in her stomach, she unfurled them, knowing fine well what they were. They were costumes. They were _her_ costumes – the designs she’d drawn up and then thrown out.

“I asked Mom to track down my old tailor, and they put this together for me. They mighta changed your designs a little, but it should be pretty close,” Moon said, beaming and completely oblivious to how dry Lillie’s mouth had become, “I had to guess at your measurements, so try ‘em on!”

Lillie moved her mouth, but no noise came out.

“Did you…I mean, did you go through my sketchbook?” she said.

“Huh?” Moon said and then, bizarrely, glanced at Clefairy, “No. I mean…not exactly. Your Clefairy brought them to me. I think he thought they were good!”

 _He_ thought they were good.

“But that’s – I wasn’t ready – you didn’t _ask_ me,” Lillie stuttered, her stomach churning. She squeezed the package to her chest, feeling absurdly as though she were going to cry. Which was a ridiculous. Moon was doing a _nice_ thing, and she knew that, yet here she was feeling angry and betrayed as though she’d done something horrible, acting every bit as ungrateful as mother always said she was.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said, and dashed away before she could embarrass herself any further.

#

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the cubicle door. Lillie bit her lip and lifted her feet up to rest on the seat, the outfits still pressed against her chest. She didn’t want to speak to Moon right now.

“It’s me,” said a voice. Burnet. Lillie looked up.

“Hey, can I come in? I wanna talk to you,” she said. Lillie swallowed and then stood, sliding the lock open and pulling the cubicle door open. Burnet raised a hand in greeting, all easy, confident smiles and warm glances.

“Yo,” she greeted, “So…I guess from the way you reacted, you didn’t really want anyone seeing those drawings just yet?”

Yes and no. Yes, that was the problem, no, that wasn’t the _whole_ problem.

“They really weren’t good enough to show anyone yet,” she said, a half-truth.

“Aw c’mon. I bet they’re great. You should just try them on –“

“I don’t want to try them on,” she interrupted, before she could stop herself. Burnet stared at her, and Lillie sat back down on the toilet set, crumpling in on herself.

They sat for a moment longer.

“I think you wanna tell me what’s really bugging you,” Burnet suggested, tone gentle. Lillie breathed in through her teeth.

“When I lived with mother, Gladion and I had _nothing_ to ourselves,” she began, speaking carefully, “She knew everything we did, where we went when and with whom. She had staff, even her Pokémon, check our rooms often. I don’t know how often, but it seemed like anything we did, she knew about near-instantly. I always had to make sure that nothing I was drawing or writing or _doing_ , even by myself, was anything she could have a problem with.”

Burnet didn’t say anything, just listened, her expression neutral. Lillie was glad for it – she didn’t really want to be pitied for this. She was just explaining what her childhood had been like. Yet, it has been horrible in many ways, but she didn’t want a sob story. She didn’t want to be pitied for her tragic past or told how brave she was. She just wanted to explain the facts and have them understood.

“I just didn’t think I had to worry about that anymore,” she concluded, feeling like a bitter, angry child. She folded her arms tighter around herself.

“That makes total sense,” Burnet said, prompting Lillie to look up, surprised. She had half-expected to be chided for over-reacting, or for Burnet to immediately defend what Moon did.

“I know she didn’t mean anything bad by it,” Lillie continued, feeling as though she had to make it clear that she knew she was being irrational. After a second’s thought, she added, “Neither did Clefairy.”

“Clefairy’s clearly feeling guilty,” Burnet said, the corner of her mouth twitching, “I think he wanted to follow you, but he just _refused_ to enter the girls’ bathroom.”

Lillie let out a laugh.

“He’s always been a gentleman,” she said, “How’s Moon?”

“Confused.”

Lillie winced.

“She’s a meathead,” Burnet said, laughing, “Of course she is.”

“Do you think you could…explain for me?” she said, sounding pathetic even to herself. Burnet shook her head.

“Kukui and I figured out what was going on pretty quickly and tried to set her straight on it. Didn’t really matter – she still doesn’t get it,” she said, “Besides. Isn’t this the kind of thing you should sort out yourselves?”

That was incredibly true, but that didn’t mean Lillie _wanted_ to. She would much prefer the real grown-ups just sorted it all out for them.

“Well, either way, I think Moon’s decided to pack up for the day,” Burnet said.

“That’s fine. Clefairy and I will practice some jumps and do some more exercises,” Lillie replied, before Burnet could possibly suggest they go off and spend the afternoon doing something else and stood up as briskly as she could.

“Huh? Are you sure, I mean, you’ve worked yourself to the bone today already…”

“I’m sure,” she said, and then forced a smile, “We still have a lot to do, after all.”

#

It was dark by the time Lillie left the rink and headed home. With Clefairy by her side, she wasn’t worried about anyone from Aether jumping her, and her encounter with Gladion had left her certain that nobody from Team Skull would try anything with her. She still had the costumes, bundled in her arms, carefully carried so they wouldn’t crease or crumpled, but still in their plastic wrapping.

The kitchen was full of the smell of cooking vegetables as Lillie arrived back at Kukui’s lab. Burnet and Kukui were preparing dinner – a lean protein-and-veg dish that was designed to help Lillie continue to pack on muscle – and Moon was on the couch, her Flaaffy in her lap and her cheek pressed against her hand. She didn’t move as Lillie entered.

“Welcome home!” Kukui called cheerfully from the kitchen. She smiled, giving a little wave despite the horrible ache in her arms, shoulders, back, thighs, calves, feet, neck – okay, basically every part of her body, and then a few parts she was sure were new.

“Hi,” Lillie said, smiling. She glanced over at Moon, who again kept her eyes trained on the TV screen. Burnet came over to hug her.

“Feeling better?” she muttered in her ear. Lillie nodded. She did. A little. Despite her soreness. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the costumes, but she didn’t feel as violated and upset as she had earlier.

Still, she couldn’t help but be a little irritated Moon seemed oblivious to why she was upset.

“Hey, so, I been wonderin’,” Kukui began, scratching the back of his head, “How does the figure skating league work, exactly? So, there’s globals and then all these separate cups, and then the Grand Prix?”

“Oh, well, uh, it’s not a _league_ exactly,” Lillie explains, “Globals are…um, how would I explain it…”

“Globals are an international figure skating contest. Anyone can enter, and all skaters are ranked against each other,” Moon interrupted, “The top 15% of scorers are then divided into five different cups, across five different regions. The highest scorers of those individual cups then make it to the Grand Prix.”

“Wait, what? That’s _crazy_ ,” Kukui said, “Anyone can enter globals? Even if they don’t’ know how to skate at all? And…only the top 15% in the _world_ get through?”

“Yep,” Moon said.

“That’s intense,” Burnet said, glancing from Moon to Lillie, “So even if you rank the best in your local tournament, if you don’t rank high enough on the world stage…”

“Well, you know, it’s hard to get anyone to watch any sport that isn’t Pokémon battling,” Moon said, shrugging, “So they want to ramp up the stakes as high as they can get. Plus, some people were complaining that some places – like Sinnoh – have a lot of competitive figure skaters, while places like Orre have barely any. So the national system they used previously didn’t seem very fair – some skaters had to compete against twenty other skater, some had to compete against three. They decided the international system was fairer.”

“That, and mother wanted to make sure both she and I could both make it through to the Grand Prix if we competed in Alola,” Lillie muttered, conscious that the global system was her mother’s suggestion. Her considerable sway as both the leader of Aether, a prominent funding body, and one of the most intimidating figure skaters on the international stage ensured the suggestion was taken seriously.

“That too,” Moon acknowledged, still barely glancing at Lillie. Kukui folded his arms and breathed out appreciatively.

“Well, dang. I kind of assumed you’d walk the first stage of the tournament, Lillie,” he said, shaking his head, “I had no idea you were under that sort of pressure!”

Burnet elbowed him. Lillie could only laugh, her stomach knotting at the thought.

“But, hey! You got your costumes, you got killer routines, you got the best coach you could ask for, and you got all of Alola cheering you on every step of the way!” he said, grinning at her, “You’ll do just fine, cousin!”

Lillie’s stomach started doing horrible, twisty gymnastics.

“Statistically,” Moon said, not looking up, “We would need to earn 200 points total to ensure a place.”

Burnet glanced at her, and then started very loudly talking about dinner, dishing up their meals and pouring drinks (beer for herself, Kukui and Moon, flavoured water for Lillie). Talk of globals was forgotten.

Moon still barely glanced at Lillie all evening.

#

Lillie couldn’t sleep.

This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, especially recently. If she was honest with herself, she was just sick of it. She shifted, readjusting Clefairy, snoring gently into her chest, and turned onto her side. Relax, relax, relax, she coached herself. Think of Wicke’s breathing exercises. Don’t think of Moon being angry. Don’t think about Gladion sleeping on the couch in some filthy Team Skull hide-out.

Don’t think of mother.

She closed her eyes and found herself staring at the underside of her eyelids. This was so frustrating, she thought viciously. She _needed_ to rest. Why did her body insist on refusing her?

A soft thumping prompted her to sit up, reaching for her glasses on the floor beside her bed. Moon appeared at the top of the ladder, dragging herself up.

“You’re awake again,” she said. Lillie nodded, not sure what else to say. Moon sat down on the floor, cross-legged. She looked oddly small, in the dim light of the moon, in her baggy sleeping clothes. Lillie sat up on the bed, her fists clenched in her lap.

“Look, I can’t say I totally get why you were mad at me today…but, well, I’m sorry,” she said, and then, before, Lillie could reply, she looked up, her expression suddenly fierce, “But, I think you need to be practical! We didn’t have costumes, and time was running out. I needed to do _something_! So, at this late stage, it’s either those costumes, or nothing at all. And – and. Well that’s all I really have to say.”

Lillie bit her lip. She couldn’t say she didn’t see Moon’s point. She had wavered for so long on the point that she _had_ left it too late. If Moon hadn’t done what she did, she probably wouldn’t have had costumes in time for globals.

“Still…I’d prefer you have asked,” she said, in a very low voice. Moon stared at her.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she said, equally as quiet.

Lillie looked at her a second longer and then slid down from the bed to sit next to her, so close their knees were touching. Moon sighed.

“Lillie, I don’t know what to do with you, sometimes.”

“I’m not a difficult person.”

“I don’t mean that. I just…sometimes don’t know if you really want me around,” Moon confessed, her voice almost trembling. Lillie looked at her, surprised, but Moon avoided her gaze carefully, observing her cuticles with a focus Lillie had never seen before.

“Of course I do!” she blurted out. Moon had never, once, seemed for a moment to have even the remotest tremble of self-confidence. She was a rock in an ocean without calm. Someone so self-possessed that nothing could shake her. Lillie felt like a trembling pillar of chalk by comparison.

“Hah, well, I’m glad,” Moon replied, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

“I just – they’re not _good_ enough!” Lillie continued, the words bursting out of her, “And my mother will be at globals. They need to be perfect, or she’ll…she’ll pick a flaw. She’ll see that I designed them, and that they’re –“

“Lillie,” Moon interrupted firmly, turning and taking her forearm gently with her hand, “Nothing we picked would have been perfect. And – and –“

She trailed off, and then huffed out a breath. It sounded like whatever she had to say she was finding difficult.

“And, listen, your mother…she’d find fault in anything. I promise.”

Lillie swallowed, gently pulling her arm from Moon’s grip. They both fell silent, watching Clefairy’s wings flutter in his sleep.

“We’ve got what we’ve got, okay? Just…try them on before globals. We can make alterations, at this point, but we’ve got what we’ve got. And all we can do is make the best of it,” she said, and then stood.

“Get some sleep,” she instructed, again Moon-the-coach, instead of Moon-the-friend, “We start early in the morning.”

#

Lillie didn’t go to sleep.

She unwrapped the costumes, as carefully as she could, trying to make as little noise as possible. Moon’s tailors had done an incredible job. Despite the number of sequins, the complexity of the stitching, the flexibility of the fabric, it felt light as a feather in her hands, unrolling with the gentle hiss of silk. In the dark, lit by only the light on her vanity, she couldn’t really see the details.

Breathing in, she stripped down to her underwear and tugged on her costumes, one after the other.

The fit was perfect. The designs were nearly exactly what she had drawn in her sketchbook.

She didn’t know what else to say about them.

#

The last week before globals went in a blur of training, protein-heavy meals, push-ups and sit-ups, Hau’s cheering, Kukui and Burnet’s encouragement, and Moon’s watchful eyes and folded arms. It was still tense between them, and Lillie didn’t know how to fix that.

She supposed it didn’t matter. They were coach and athlete. It didn’t matter whether they were friends. It didn’t matter whether they could be anything else. Their relationship should, above all else, continue to operate professionally.

It didn’t stop her being a little sad about it, though.

Before she knew it, she was walking into the ice rink at Aether Paradise, her breath in her throat. Hala was with them, keeping close to Lillie’s side and giving sharp looks at any Aether employees that looked at her too long. As the only rink in Alola large enough to host globals, she knew it was inevitable that she end up here.

It didn’t stop her feeling faint every time a staff member looked her way, though. She thought, for certain, she’d see her mother stride towards her any moment, tall and regal as a goddess, her expression cold and haughty. For all her nerves, it didn’t happen. Typical, really. Mother would likely only appear at the last minute before her first skate, for maximum dramatic effect.

Still. She would see her mother regardless.

She felt sick.

“Have some water, Lillie,” Burnet said gently, pressing a bottle of water into her hand. She nodded, unscrewing the top, and downed half the bottle in a few shaky gulps. A few drops splashed down her chin, and she wiped it away with the back of her wrist.

The water didn’t really abate her nausea, but Burnet’s hand rubbing circles between her shoulders steadied her, just a little.

“Not really many competitors that are a threat here,” Moon said, glancing about at the other skaters. Lillie had to agree – there weren’t many recognisable faces in the crowd. There were a lot of skaters that just seemed to be there for the chance to practice with a bigger audience, chatting easily with parents or friends. A scant few looked more serious than that.

Really, Lillie wasn’t surprised. She only had one key competitor in Alola. And she would not be mingling with the masses.

“Lillie! Moon!” shouted a familiar voice. Hau rushed towards them, already in his short programme outfit – a sparkly midnight blue outfit, with epaulettes on the shoulders emulating the general of _The Crystallised Prince._ He was practically vibrating with excitement. Lillie wished she felt the same.

“Man, the turnouts good today. I haven’t seen Lusamine yet though…” he said.

“She’ll be in her dressing room until the last minute,” Lillie said faintly. Hau shook his head.

“Nah, that’s not what I mean. I mean on the contestants’ board.”

“The…what?” Lillie asked.

“The screen listening all the contestants! Come on, I’ll show you,” Hau said, and grabbed both Lillie and Moon, dragging them through the crowd. He tugged them towards a screen, surrounded by skaters and fans alike, listing names alongside small icons showing a headshot of the skater. They were divided between male and female contestants, all listed in alphabetical order. Every minute or so, it flicked to the next screen.

Lillie stared at it. She was the only _A_ surname among the female skaters. It went directly to _Lillie Aether_ to _Ami Brown_ with no in-between. She watched longer, wondering if perhaps her mother’s name had been accidentally placed on the boy’s list or otherwise miscategorised, yet she didn’t appear.

“Huh,” Moon said, tone uncharacteristically thoughtful.

“Ha! Guess you scared her off, Lillie!” Hau said, beaming at her, “Look at that, you won already!”

“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly,” said a cool voice. They turned and saw a boy approaching them, wearing a pair of sunglasses with his hood pulled up, blonde hair tucked under it.

“Gladion?” Lillie said. Gladion hushed her quickly, gesturing quickly before burying his hands back into the pocket of his hoodie. She caught a glimpse of Hau rolling his eyes.

“Then what do you think is going on?” Moon asked.

“Simple,” he said, covering half of his face with a hand (cue another eye-roll from Hau), “Mother has decided to compete in the Kalos globals branch this year.”

“What?” Moon spluttered, clearly baffled.

“Huuuh?” Hau asked.

“I’d wager that she doesn’t want to show her hand early to you,” he said, looking seriously at Lillie, “My guess is that she knows you won’t be able to stomach watching her performance on television, so this way she can see what to expect of you, while you likely won’t see what to expect of her.”

“Did she tell you this?” Hau asked, tilting his head. Gladion laughed.

“Ha! No, mother hasn’t had contact with me since I left,” he said, shaking his head, “It’s just a matter of knowing how her mind works. And I think I know that better than most.”

“So…why tell me?” Lillie asked.

“Simple. You’re far too nice to have an easy as an insight into our mother’s mind as I do,” Gladion said.

Lillie didn’t know what to say about that.

“Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?” Hau demanded abruptly, “It’s not even that bright in here…”

“I have people who would make an enormous fuss if they knew I was here,” Gladion said simply.

“I think the Aether staff will leave us alone now mother has given up on dragging us home,” Lillie said, chewing her nail.

“I wasn’t talking about them…”

“Oh come _on,_ Gladion,” Hau shouted, “You’re not going to get mo-“

“ _Gladion!”_ yelped a voice.

“Gladion’s here!”

“There’s him! That’s Glady!”

“Oh-my-gosh, he really _has_ went all goth! That’s soooo cute!”

Before Lillie could remotely react, Gladion charged past them and dashed into a crowd. A small group of teenage girls and boys, all of them wearing Sneasel ears, raced after him. Hau almost fell back, waving his arms wildly to stay upright. They watched them go. Lillie didn’t even know her brother could run that fast.

“Sheesh, he’s still as popular as ever, huh?” Hau said, and then shook his head, “Anyway, I’m gonna go catch up with a few guys I know. Good luck Lillie! I’ll be cheering you on!”

He ran off.

“Man, that kid’s a ball of energy,” Burnet said, “He kind of reminds me of Kukui when he was younger! But hey, Lillie, good news, huh? Lusamine’s not gonna be here! You can relax.”

“Ha…yeah,” Lillie said, voice shaking.

Moon glanced at her, sucking on her lower lip.

“Let’s go watch the morning skaters.”

#

The three of them joined the stands to watch the morning skaters. On the ice was a skater Lillie didn’t recognise, doing a relatively straight-forward routine with a Gardevoir companion. It was competent, but nothing particularly special. The integration of Gardevoir’s psychic powers into a skating programme was, frankly, overplayed.

Still, what the other skaters were like in this particular branch of globals didn’t matter. What mattered was the ferocity of competition overall.

Lillie could still fall at the first hurdle, right here today.

“You’ll walk this,” Hau muttered in her ear. Burnet squeezed her shoulder, silently agreeing. Moon just kept watching the skaters, tapping her lower lip with a finger, brow scrunched up in concentration.

Lillie’s performance wasn’t until after noon. They always showed the newcomers first, giving them a bit more a fanfare to help them boost their presence. Plus, people were more inclined to watch the whole thing at home if they had to wait for their favourite skater to turn up.

She couldn’t spot Gladion in the crowd. She could only assume he was still trying to shake off his fans.

She couldn’t help but feel she would feel a little better if he was here.

Skater after skater and their Pokémon hit the ice, all of them doing their best. There were a handful that stood out – the girl skating to heavy metal with her Granbull was impressive – but the majority blurred into one another. As morning skates ended and the announcer said they’d be taking an hour break for lunch, Lillie couldn’t say the unease in her belly had settled.

Moon’s silence didn’t help.

#

Lillie changed as quickly as she could. Make-up, hair, costume, everything. She was precise and careful, as she always was, even in putting her sweat-jacket on over her costume. She tried to be objective as possible when checking her costume, avoiding thinking about whether it looked good. Or whether she looked good at it.

One thing at a time.

Wicke always used to tell her that when she’d been nervous before a programme. Just one thing at a time.

Mother wasn’t here.

She’d been thinking, constantly, for weeks, about the fact she’d have to face her mother at globals. It had kept her awake. It had kept her training, for hours and hours and hours, until she was sore from head to toe, and Clefairy could barely stand.

Yet she wasn’t here.

Lillie didn’t know what to do with that.

She crouched down and ran her brush through Clefairy’s short fur, stroking behind his ears.

“What do you think, Clefairy?”

Clefairy sang a questioning note.

“Yeah,” she said, “Are you ready for this? To try and be Tapu Koko?”

He turned and sang another note, lower this time, tugging gently on her hand, and guiding it between his ears.

“I’m glad one of us is,” she said.

“Lillie, are you ready?” Moon called through the door.

Lillie stood up straight, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. Let’s…let’s just try.”

**#**

The walk to the rink seemed to take hours. Lillie and Moon strode side by side in silence, Clefairy following them.

Lillie would be first on the ice that afternoon, performing her short programme. The free programmes weren’t until tomorrow.

 _The Song of Tapu Koko_ was, in many ways, the more difficult programme compared to _Hero in the Stars._ It was faster, it was completely unlike the programmes she’d skated in the past, and Clefairy’s role throughout was more unconventional than most of his previous work. Maybe it would be good to run the harder programme first.

Lillie stood her hands gripped into tight fists. No matter what she did or told herself, she couldn’t relax.

“You’ll be fine,” Moon said. She looked at her.

She was expected on the ice in a matter of minutes.

She unzipped her track jacket and passed it to Moon, revealing the golden leotard beneath, glittering with sequins, slashed across her torso in the shape of a lightning bolt. Swallowing, she neatened her bangs. She felt strange, wearing her bright eyeshadow and lipstick, conscious of the sticky feeling of her fake eyelashes.

Moon stared at her. It was the first time she’d seen her in one of her costumes. The thought made a silly, nervous grin spread across her face, half-way to hysterical giggles.

“Haha, what?” Moon asked, sounding as nervous as Lillie felt. For a second, the weird mood between them felt as though it had dissolved. Lillie knew she needed to grab that moment the tension broke, try and patch over it, however she could.

“You’re a good coach,” Lillie said abruptly, “No matter how we’ve messed up. And no matter what I’m about to do.”

She squeezed Moon’s forearm and removed the guards on her blades, before skating to the centre of the ice.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Moon staring shocked, a hand on her forearm. For some reason, the fact she’d managed to surprise Moon put a smile on her face.

“And here we have Lillie Aether, making her first debut independent of her mother, Lusamine Aether,” the announcer said, her voice booming and eager, “Lillie is now under the supervision of the recently-retired Moon Asada, an unexpected development that has shaken the skating world to its core. As her first step into the limelight after her departure from this very rink, we cannot wait to see what she has in store!”

Lillie breathed in, closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see anyone. Not Hau, not Gladion, not the crowd, not her fans or her haters or Moon. She let the announcer’s voice and excited murmurs of the crowd fade into white noise.

She just needed to skate the programme today. For the moment, that was all she needed to do.

The first note of _The Song of Tapu Koko_ brought her out of her trance. She let her skate hit the ice, kicking up dust, and swung into her first movement. Clefairy followed her, faithful as ever. She tried to remember the imagery she’d worked so hard on – of Tapu Koko in the summer storm, god of thunder and lightning, letting electricity crack hard against the hot ground and thunder roar across the islands. A display of a power as unyielding as a monsoon.

The first jump. It was a triple toe loop. She landed it in practice perfectly almost every time.

Breathing in deeply, she let her body carry her, seeing the white glow of Clefairy’s electricity on the ice below her as she spun into the air, and then landed, her legs shaking with the impact.

Was that over-rotated? She thought so…she missed the announcer saying if it was.

Wait. No. She didn’t have time to think. She had the rest of the programme yet. Clefairy chirped at her, encouraging, as he swooped past them for next part of the routine. She circled round him in the ice, and then went into her next jump, a double axel.

She miscalculated. Her hand touched the ice.

“Oooh, she touched down on that one!” the announcer said.

Her heart reached her throat. This was excruciating. She hadn’t practised enough. She couldn’t do this. Her mother hadn’t even thought it was important enough to _see_.

No, no, no. Calm down. She was on the ice. She couldn’t back out now.  She had what she had, and she just needed to do her best with whatever that was. Just calm down. Next jump, next jump, next jump.

She landed the next jump and was sure her arm wasn’t at the right angle. She needed to be precise. She needed to be like a surgeon’s scalpel on the ice. She felt like a butcher knife, chopping it into uneven chunks.

Clefairy’s next electrical display triggered a wave of appreciative applause and much ooh-ing from the audience.

He was here too, she remembered. She glanced at him, so utterly focused. He had worked so hard, learning new abilities that didn’t come naturally to him at all. He was so far from his comfort zone now that he probably couldn’t even see it any more.

She couldn’t let him down.

Speeding up, she prepared for the next jump. A double wasn’t enough – she could do a quad here. She had plenty of energy left.

The music picked up and Lillie left the ice, carried up even further by the familiar warm breeze of Clefairy’s fairy magic.

“Oh, it’s not a double, it’s a quadruple Salchow! Beautiful, just beautiful!”

She landed just as the drums hit and the thunder around her boomed. The crowd shrieked.

Just a few more elements and then it was done, it was done, it would be done. She could figure out how she did afterwards. She just wanted to get to the end.

Clefairy slid beside her as they went into the step sequence, her skates hitting the ice at the same time as his hooves, sparks flying up from every impact. This was one of the last elements. She couldn’t make out the announcer’s words, the thumping in her ears and the rumble of thunder drowning out the music and the crowd and all the commentary.

Finally, the music began to slow. She and Clefairy slid to the centre of the ice, striking their final pose. The crowd burst into applause, but Lillie didn’t even look up as she rushed back to rejoin Moon at the kiss and cry, her throat dry, barely able to breathe.

She sat down, legs shaking, and Clefairy leapt into her lap. She bundled him up in her arms, pressing her face into his short, warm fur.

“You did great,” Moon whispered, as they awaited the scores. Lillie honestly no idea. That could have been the worst performance of her career, or the best. She had no idea. All she knew was that she had done it. She had done the entire programme, in the costume she'd designed, and people had watched her do it. It was all out there now. In that moment, that alone felt like a staggering achievement.

“The judges have finished calculating scores and…Lillie Aether has been awarded a more than respectable 79.41 points, the highest score achieved today, one that almost surpasses her personal best!” called the commentator. Lillie released a long breath, bowing her head over Clefairy and then sitting up, a stupid smile on her face despite herself. Moon squawked with delight and tugged an arm around her, pulling her to a quick hug that, for once, Lillie felt no desire to shrink back from.

She stood and departed from the kiss and cry, laughing shakily. That was it for the day. She didn’t need to worry until tomorrow.

As she departed, Moon rubbing her shoulder and chattering encouragingly into her ear all the way, Gladion stepped out from somewhere. He was looking at his phone, before tapping it closed and slipping it back into his pocket.

“You know, you have a chance of getting to the next stage,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Just don’t mess up tomorrow.”

“Like she could!” Moon said, shaking almost as much as Lillie was, “Come on, Lillie, let’s go see how Hau’s doing.”

Lillie laughed, nodding. There was still a stone in her gut, but, for at least this moment, she could be happy with what she’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Holds up picture of Gladion in one hand and Yurio in the other] Same hat.


	7. Chapter 7

Hau beat his personal best, despite laughing after he struck his final pose at the end. Lillie and Moon only caught the tail-end of his performance, but given that Hala had little criticisms, they could only assume it was good.

The mood was celebratory, and Hala insisted on taking ‘the kids’ (as he calls them, despite that Moon was twenty and neither Hau or herself were far behind) out for malasadas. Kukui and Burnet joined them, both shouting about how fantastic they’d been out there. Their opinions were vastly uninformed and Lillie had the strong sense they hadn’t actually watched any of the other skaters, but they were so enthusiastic Lillie couldn’t help but believe it.

That said, Lillie knew fine well that the hardest battle was yet to come.

On the way home, Hala sidled up beside her. Hau and Moon were deep in conversation ahead of them, laughing about some weird meme that Lillie didn’t 100% understand, and both the Professors were preoccupied with investigating the Corsola that had followed Hau back up from the shore.

“Have you watched Lusamine’s performance yet?” he asked. Lillie looked up at him, half-expecting the sort of stern look Hala reserved for when Hau was goofing about. She only found genuine concern.

Lillie shook her head, gnawing at her lower lip.

“I know I should!” she said, eager to defend herself, “I just don’t think I’ll have the courage, honestly.”

Hala sighed, but he didn’t exactly sound disappointed. It seemed more like he thought the whole situation was regretful. Lillie couldn’t help but agree. It was more than regretful. She _shouldn’t_ be so frightened to watch a video of her own mother skating. She shouldn’t be frightened of her mother at all.

“It was very good. She’s an excellent skater, as ever,” he said, “Better than any of us.”

“Oh,” Lillie said, heart sinking. Was this a ‘give up and go home’ speech?

Hala clapped her on the shoulder, smiling.

“ _But_ I think your routines have far, far more heart. _And_ they’re much more original,” he said, “Just do your best tomorrow. Don’t worry for a second about that woman.”

It was a nice idea. Lillie hoped one day she’d be able to do just that. Today, it almost felt possible.

#

“Lillie, your Mom’s on the TV.”

That was the first thing that greeted Lillie after she returned from her morning run. Kukui said it was gravity, and Moon instantly rushed out of the kitchen to grab the remote and turn it off. Lillie grabbed her by the shoulder, catching her.

Lusamine looked the same as ever – perfect, slim, beautiful, not a hair or eyelash out of place. Never bothered by the brushes of acne across her jaw Lillie suffered, or the dark circles under his eyes Gladion so frequently sported. If anything, she looked better than ever.

Seeing that, for some reason, made her gut sink. Lusamine had lost her entire family at this point, Lillie had almost hoped it would show. Maybe if she just looked a bit less composed, a fraction less model-perfect, if her voice wobbled or cracked or _anything_ , it would prove she actually cared.

The interview wasn’t much about the figure skating Grand Prix. It was mostly about the Aether Foundation’s recent charitable work, rebuilding Cinnabar Island in Kanto, something the interview remarked as being ‘a long time coming’.

“The Aether Foundation’s core priority will always be the well-being and preservation of Pokemon, but we mustn’t neglect the well-being and preservation of humans. After all, Pokemon and humans are partners. We have been for thousands of years,” Lusamine said, with a glittering smile, “Protecting one is protecting the other.”

“She doesn’t mean that,” Lillie muttered, her insides boiling hot, “She doesn’t care, she –“

Her mother didn’t care about the things she used to. Lillie remembered when her mother sincerely loved her Pokemon and her family. That was a long time ago. Now, she only cared about her career and her beauty and her legacy. Everything else – her children, her Pokemon, even an entire _island_ – was for the sake of preserving those things.

“Too true, too true,” the interviewed said, buying all her _bullshit_ wholesale, “If I may be so bold, there have been many rumours about your children recently –“

They’re almost _twenty_. They’re not children.

“With Lillie working under a new coach, Gladiolus having disappeared from the public eye altogether…some even say he’s joined Team Skull.”

Lusamine frowns prettily. It’s the perfect expression of one contemplating something very sad, very unfortunate, and very, very not their fault.

“Ah, my son is a very sad story. I’m sure you know, after the tragic accident that took my husband from us and with the pressure of stardom, he became rather unwell. I did my best, but I was grieving myself, and I suppose without a strong father figure in his life…”

She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. The interviewer soothed her. After a moment Lusamine managed to compose herself, breathing in deeply.

“As for Lillie, well, I advised that she may find it useful for her career to learn elsewhere,” she continued, with a proud smile, “After all, as much as we would like to, we can’t protect our children from the world forever! We’re still in contact. After all, Ms Asada is a great friend and colleague of mine…”

The world screamed in her ears.

Moon grabbed the controller and Lusamine was cut off. They all stared at Lillie, who didn’t trust herself to speak. She wanted to grab something and smash it to pieces on the ground. Liar liar liar _liar!_ She was such a _liar!_

“Wow,” Kukui said, looking as though he’d very much to use some very choice language he usually made very little use of.

“Lillie, are you alright?” Burnet asked, moving towards her cautiously. Lillie stepped away, fixing a sad smile on her face.

“I’m fine. It made me a little sad…” She was _sad_ , that was right. She was just sad that her mother couldn’t be honest. Sad that it had ended up like this. “…but I’m alright. We should get ready to go.”

“…Aren’t you going to have breakfast?” Moon suggested quietly. Lillie smiled at her.

“I’m sure I’ll get something at the rink.”

#

She was sad. She was just sad. That’s why she was shaking and distracted, even throughout the morning’s free skate programmes. She felt sorry for Lusamine, she really did. She felt bad for her.

Moon didn’t take her eyes off her all morning. It was like a scratching on her skin, being observed so thoroughly, but Lillie just gritted her teeth and dealt with it.

Moon bullied her into a fried egg and bit of scrambled tofu for lunch, but she barely tasted it. She ate as much as she dared, her stomach cramping and her throat tightening the whole time. As soon as they arrived at the rink, she headed directly to the dressing rooms. She wasn’t interested in watching anyone else skate. She just wanted to get ready.

She pulled on her costume, brushed out her hair, did her make-up, all without thinking, her gut boiling the whole time. Perhaps she was a bit harsher with her eyeliner than usual, brushed her hair a little more forcefully, but who could say.

Looking at the full effect in the mirror, she wasn’t sure what to think. Designing the costume, it had felt _classical_ to design it after the night sky. Yes, it wasn’t a totally original idea, but at the time Lillie had felt she could _execute_ it in an interesting. And after all, it fit perfectly with the song, and contrasted nicely with her short programme.

Now, adjusting her leotard, and smoothing out the black ruffles on her shoulders, it just felt cliched.

She could hear mother tutting at such a tired concept. She breathed in through her teeth, suddenly wanting to put her fist through the wall.

No, no, no. She was scared, she was sad, she certainly wasn’t anything uglier than that. She was a nice, kind person, unlike her mother. Nice, kind people didn’t want to scream or punch things.

The one thing she could say about her make-up was that Gladion would probably like it. In fact, her eyeliner looked a little like his. The thought made her smile a little.

“Woah.”

Lillie turned to find Moon staring at her, eyes wide. Suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed out the leotard again, checking it wasn’t bunched in any embarrassing places.

“This isn’t very me, is it?” Lillie said, looking back at her reflection.

“You look terrifying,” Moon said. Lillie had no idea if that was meant to be a compliment or not. She felt another prickle of annoyance and pushed it as far back down as it could, forcing her best smile.

“Don’t you mean terrified?” she asked, with a little laugh. Moon shook her head.

“Definitely not,” she said, and then hesitated, “Are you…sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, yes, it was just. A bit of a shock seeing my mother this morning,” she said avoiding Moon’s piercing gaze.

“…So…you’re fine,” she said, clearly unconvinced, and Lillie almost snapped the mascara wand she’s holding in half. Why couldn’t she just leave it? Why couldn’t _anyone_ just leave it?”

There was a ringing noise, and Lillie heard the muffled voice of the announcer over the intercom.

“That’s us,” Moon said, still watching her like she was a skittish Pokemon, “We should go.”

Lillie nodded, faking another smile hard enough to break her face in two, and scooped Clefairy up in her arms. The soft fuzz of his fur against her skin soothed her a little.

She had to perform her free skate. She had to concentrate. She had to be light and free and she had to _smile_.

Moon offered her hand, cocking into a goofy little bow. Normally she’d laugh, but she couldn’t bring herself to. Her insides were still fizzling. She let Moon’s hand drop.

“Right,” Moon said quietly, as they headed upstairs, and back to the rink. People were filing into their seats, as the announcers chattered about the scores and performances so far. Lillie tried not to hear any of it, mentally going through every step of her programme. Moon kept glancing at her, as though frightened she’d run away.

“Next to begin the afternoon’s free skate programmes is Lillie Aether, who came top of the short programme scores for Alola yesterday,” the commentator said, “She will be skating to _Hero in the Stars_ from the cult classic action flick _Meteorite_.”

What a stupid choice of song, Lillie thought, why did she think she could do this. Stupid stupid stupid.

She breathed in, stooped to remove the guards from her skates, and stepped out onto the ice.

“Wait!” Moon blurted, leaning over the barrier. Lillie turned, surprised.

“You’re…not fine. You’re really mad,” she said.

Lillie startled, glancing about as though someone would hear. She skated toward Moon.

“No, I’m –“

“It’s _okay_ to be mad at her. I’m mad at her too,” Moon muttered, leaning over. A strand of hair fell in her face, and Lillie felt the sudden, bizarre urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

“…I don’t want to be angry about this,” Lillie admitted, hoarsely. Moon gave a funny little laugh.

“You’ve been angry with me before,” she noted, grinning at the floor. Lillie gave a wobbly smile in return.

“I…feel like I’m allowed to be angry with you,” she said.

“Ouch.”

“It’s a compliment!” she replied, huffing a breath, “…I think.”

“It’s a really weird one!” Moon bit back, laughing despite herself.

“…Well, I just mean…” Lillie trailed off, glancing at Moon awkwardly, “I can be angry with you and – and nothing bad will happen. You’d apologise or I’d apologise but either way…we’d move past it. Everything would be fine. I don’t even feel like I’m even _allowed_ to be angry at my mother.”

“Well, you are. And you have a right to be. If…if she’s the kind of mother I imagine she is,” Moon said, and then snapped upright, gaze serious, going straight into her Coach Form, “Use it. This programme can…it’s flexible. You can use to express a lot of different things. Stop pretending to not be angry. Just be angry, okay?”

Lillie stared at her, at a loss for words. Moon wanted her to get out on the ice and…what, throw a tantrum about her mother on the ice for four minutes?

Before she could ask, Moon fumbled in her bag and brought out a small plastic tube. For a second, she looked as though she were considering putting it away.

“I bought this for you, but I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was too much,” she said, and uncapped it. It was a lipstick – very, very dark purple. Basically black. A far cry from the delicate, neutral shades that Lillie usually used.

Lillie was about to reach for it when Moon gently cupped her chin in a hand and applied the lipstick herself. Lillie was grateful for her dark sleeves, to hide the goosepimples that just rose on it, and that the pleasant thrill down her spine wasn’t somehow visible.

Moon capped the lipstick and held up a tissue.

“Kiss this,” she said, and Lillie obliged, kissing off excess lipstick.

“There,” Moon said, grinning, “You’re perfect. Knock them dead.”

Barely able to breathe, Lillie skated to the centre of the ice. The announcer was talking about her costume, but Lillie couldn’t think about that. Her whole body buzzed with the sensation of Moon’s fingertips under her chin, the serious expression on her face.

Just be angry?

Was that even _allowed_?

“As we know, Lillie Aether is now coached by Moon Asada, a shocking turn of events, that according to Lusamine Aether, has been preordained for some time…”

Something turned hard and solid in Lillie’s gut, and she stood up straighter, taking her starting position.

_We can’t protect our children from the world forever!_

Yeah, more like Gladion couldn’t protect me from _you_ forever, she thought, more like you couldn’t keep me from getting into the world forever. More like…

“Go!”

Was that Gladion?

Lillie realised, suddenly, that she had missed her starting cue.

Jolting up, she moved into the first part of her programme, a bit fast, she needed to catch up.

She couldn’t get distracted like that again. She needed to focus on the routine.

“A late start, but let’s see if Lillie can make up. In this routine, Lillie has placed most of the jumps in the latter half, taking clever advantage of the 10% bonus…”

Next came a step sequence, meant to be slow, like Lillie was in zero gravity. Clefairy’s abilities were useful in slowing her on the ice.

As she heard Clefairy land again, she moved into it. She could do this. Step sequences were something she had always been good at.

_They’re nothing particularly remarkable though, Lillie, at least not in the judge’s eyes –_

Shut up!

She jumped, a bit sooner than necessary, but spun it into a quad and landed perfectly. She heard the crowd shout, the announcer voicing her surprise, but she didn’t care right now. She could do this, she could do this even though she’d been told over and over she couldn’t, and she _would_ do this, just to wipe that stupid fake smile off her mother’s stupid face.

When this was over, Lillie thought viciously, everyone will know _exactly_ what kind of mother you were.

She glanced back at Clefairy and he flicked his ears.

Lillie took off from the ice, snapping her arms into place and spinning. It was always hard to tell the rotations in the air, but she couldn’t think about that right now. She just needed to do this well enough to get to the next stage. She was _not_ losing here.

“Incredible height on that jump! A little over-rotated, but –“

Everyone was going to know that Lusamine _lied_. That there was nothing wrong with her brother, nothing wrong with her, that she wasn’t the perfect, tragic mother she was so determined to act like.

“We’re coming up to the most challenging combination in this programme…Clefairy has shown admirable energy, but will it be able to keep up the pace?”

She glanced back – Clefairy would be able to keep up, no doubt about it. He had as much stake in this as she did.

They jumped together, Clefairy elevating them both further into the air, and cushioning the sound of Lillie’s blades as she hit the ice again. She sprung straight from that into her next jump, swinging out her leg perhaps more fiercely than necessary, landing it, into the next toe loop. Her whole body was soaked with sweat, and she just knew that the Moon’s lipstick, applied without setting-spray, was long gone.

It didn’t matter, she had another forty-five seconds of her performance to go. She seized her ankle. The combination spin was something she flubbed in practice to the point where she through about asking Moon to remove it from the programme – but now she couldn’t imagine not at least trying it.

The music raised to a crescendo, and Lillie popped out of her spin, just in time for Clefairy to release a crackle of electricity around her. It wasn’t a rehearsed part of the programme. It wasn’t even something they’d discussed, and Lillie had no idea how the crowd would take it.

The blood pounding in her ears, she looked up around, where people were cheering. She couldn’t tell what the announcer was saying, whether the cheering was polite or enthusiastic or _what_.

All she knew was that she felt much, much better.

She looked up and saw Moon waiting for her at the kiss and cry, hands bunched into fists in front of her face. She drifted off towards her, ignoring the small amount of tossies being thrown onto the ice.

Moon looked as though she didn’t know what to say. Lillie didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but it didn’t matter. It was done now.

“If I get through,” she said, stepping off the ice, “I…um. I think I have some ideas for my theme for the season.”

“When,” Moon amended, and Lillie belatedly realised she was trembling. She offered her hand again, with the same stupid gallant bow, and this time Lillie laughed and took it. They sat down together, Clefairy nestled between them, keeping their intertwined fingers just out of view of the camera.

Lillie didn’t hear the words, just the number.

120.22.

Not the best in Alola today. Not even her personal best.

With her short programme score, that was 199.63

She buried her face in Moon’s shoulder, breathing heavily. She was sure she’d skated better than that. Breaking 200 would have almost certainly assured her a space. But with the score she had, they would just have to wait until this evening, when all the different global competitions had finished.

The crowd was going crazy. They had cheered her entire performance, but now there was something different to the noise they were making…

“They’re booing the score…” Moon muttered, tightening her grip on Lillie’s hand, “They’re right. You deserved better than that.”

Lillie didn’t think she was talking about the scores. She leaned back, wiping under her eyes with the back of her free hand. She looked at Moon, still squinting at the judges’ box, mouth pressed into a thin line. A weird feeling surged through Lillie’s chest.

“You’re amazing,” Lillie blurted out. Moon turned her face towards her and raised her eyebrows.

“…I wasn’t the one out there on the ice,” she replied, bemused.

“I know that,” she said, not releasing Moon’s hand as they returned to the stands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lillie, mentally, most of this chapter: _Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou_


	8. Chapter 8

“The globals today and yesterday in Hau’Oli City saw Hau Nuuhiwa take to the ice. Hau is known for his uplifting albeit inconsistent performances, but he surprised us all yesterday.”

“Yes, a tragic Kalosian ballet! An interesting choice for such a sunny young man.”

“Quite! And  with his Leafeon too – one would usually imagine an ice Pokemon as the obvious choice for that piece.”

“Still, no-one can deny the Pokemon – and its trainer – definitely have their charm. And it’s obvious Hau’s technique is improving enormously. Even with such a tonally weird performance.”

“Yes, I’ve never seen a man quite so cheerful about being forced to commit genocide against his own people.”

Laughter from the audience and the hosts.

“What about our other Alolan entry of note?”

“Ah, yes, no skating season would be complete without the incomparable Lusamine Aether –“

“She’s not Alolan this year!” More laughter. “She has left to discover Kalosian roots. A bit of a random decision, if you ask me.”

“Yes, Kalos has stolen our shining star of the skate rink away from us.”

“Or, the star has moved aside to let another rise in her place?”

“I think this star metaphor is reaching the end of its life.”

“It’s practically a black hole!”

Appreciative laughter.

“Okay, okay, but this is Lillie Aether’s first year competing independent of her family. One of Lusamine’s biggest competitors – until her sudden hiatus last year – Moon Asada, has come to Alola specifically to coach. In all likelihood, Lusamine has stepped off the Alolan stage to give her daughter a better chance to shine.”

“Oh, we’re back on stars again.”

“And how was Lillie?”

“Well, certainly different! She’s gone a little dark this year, and also seems to be tapping into her Alolan heritage.”

“She suffered a rather massive defeat last year, did she not?”

“Yes, well, I don’t doubt her brother’s disappearance had something to do with it…”

“That family has been through an awful lot.”

“They have, they have, and Lusamine still finds time for charitable work and continuing her skating career amid it all! I say, best of luck to them!”

“Yes, all the best! If you want to know if the Aether family will be represented in this year’s competition, stay tuned. Come midnight, all the scores will be finalised and released. Hopefully, we’ll see Alola represented!”

Laughter, and conversation trickling back to the day’s more relevant news and sport.

#

It’s midnight when the scores are ready, and Lillie hasn’t been able to eat a bite. Both Kukui and Moon nagged her to, citing how much energy she’d burned in the rink today, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she slid her pasta over to Hau, letting him and Raichu finish it.

Moon brought out her laptop – sitting watching every single top 15% skater be listed on TV was painful to sit through. Hau sat down on her left side, and Lillie on her right.

“Are you two ready for this?” she asked, glancing at each of them in turn. Hau nodded, grinning.

“Of course!” he said, “Let’s see if my _tonally weird_ skating did the job, haha.”

Hau _kept_ making references to that. Always in a jokey way, like he thought the comment was really, really funny.

The thing was, Lillie thought, it wasn’t. It wasn’t particularly funny. Hau was the only one who laughed when they said it.

Still, Lillie thought. At least people talked about Hau’s _skating_. Everyone just talked about her in relation to her mother, her father, her brother, the whole sorry state of the Aether line.

Not for the first time, Lillie thought about changing her surname.

“Lillie?” Moon asked, cursor hovering over the address bar. Moon kept glancing at her like she was a bomb fit to explode at any second.

She nodded, squeezing Clefairy in her lap.

“Okay, just. Let’s just find out.”

Moon opened the fansite compiling all the scores. The tables for men’s and women’s singles, as well as the pair skating contest, popped up immediately.

Her mother’s name sat comfortably at the top of the women’s single board, of course, with a staggering 250.33. Lillie felt her heart sink as she read the names and scores – the highest-ranking skaters were all well over the 200 mark. With around 300 competitors across women’s singles, that didn’t bode well.

“Hey, that’s me!” Hau said, perking up, the enthusiasm in his voice just a touch more genuine. He pointed – right there at the 11th percentile: _Hau Nuuhiwa, 216.79._ He threw his arms around them both, squeezing them tight.

“Haha, yes, that’s great! It’s going to be so fun –“

Lillie stared and stared, trying to find her name, suddenly certain she’d managed to fail,  that she hadn’t done enough, that -

“Lillie!” Moon barked, pointing at the name at the bottom of the list.

There, down in the 14th percentile: _Lillie Aether._

“Y-yes!” Moon stuttered, her voice shaking, “You did, you got in! We’re going to the next stage!”

She laughed, pressing her palm into her forehead, and fell back, resting against Hau’s chest.

Yet, she couldn’t help but thinking about staggering 50 points between herself and Lusamine, and whether she would be able to close that gap.

#

Lillie set her alarm early. From now on, she’ll get up early, warm up, stretch, run, and be back in time for breakfast. Whatever Moon picked, and she would eat all of it. She needed to take everything seriously if she wanted to win.

No more time for playing around. No more hesitating and goofing off.

Clefairy was still curled up in bed, so Lillie decided to let him rest a little longer. She changed into her running gear, tied her hair up, and retrieved her glasses from the vanity. Refusing to glance in the mirror, she clambered down the ladder, and out the door.

It was still dark out, the early morning air cool and fresh against her skin. She breathed in, listening to the crash of the waves against the sand, the distant croak of Wingull gliding out over the sea. She closed the door behind her with a soft thump, and some Rattata dashed out from behind the house, rushing back into the grass with a chitter.

A large Pokemon curved through the waves, breaching the surface before diving back below. Someone was watching it from the sand, holding their sandals between their fingers.

Moon?

How long had she been out here?

Lillie hesitated, wondering if Moon even wanted company. If she should just go on her run, stop trying to complicate a professional relationship. Then she saw Moon scrub at her face with the back of a hand, like she’d been crying, and her feet carried her forward before she could even think about it.

“Um. Good morning!” she called. Moon jumped, and then rubbed her face quickly. She turned to face Lillie with a broad grin, propping a hand on her hip.

“Hey, you’re up early,” she said. Lillie stared. It was hard to tell in the thin morning light, but she was sure Moon’s eyes were red.

“You’re the one who’s up early,” she remarked, adjusting her glasses, “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah, yeah! Couldn’t sleep,” she said, with a wave of her hand. Lillie sighed.

“Moon, this isn’t going to work.”

Moon looked as though Lillie had just slapped her.

“H-huh?”

“This won’t work, um, that is…you as my coach, if you won’t tell me if something is bothering you,” she said, and then took a breath, “Truth is, I know I scraped in just on luck. I’m…I know I’m not as good a skater as my mother, or you, or Hau, or my brother. But if you have reservations, we need to talk about them.”

Moon just continued to stare at her, stunned.

“You’re a fantastic skater,” she said, shaking her head, “It’s just…I’m inexperienced as a coach.”

Primarina came back to shore, wiggling over the sand to slide under Moon’s waiting hand. There was something in her tone, so resigned and stressed, that Lillie felt her throat close.

“…Do you regret it?” she asked, and when Moon looked at her, expression severe, she stumbled over her words, “I mean…it seems like it was sort of an impulsive decision, deciding to coach me. We haven’t even – we never even discussed…anything.”

Why the hiatus, why coaching, why now, why _Lillie_ , none of those things had ever been raised. Even the simple matter of payment hadn’t even really been broached. Not for the first time, Lillie felt as though she didn’t know what the two of them were even _doing_.

Moon stared at her, still running her fingers through Primarina’s fur.

“It wasn’t really that impulsive. I mean…I took my hiatus before we started this,” she said.

“…Why was that, anyway?” Lillie asked, frowning. Moon _said_ it wasn’t because she was running from mother but spending the past few years standing next to her on the podium could have hardly been pleasant. Lusamine had never been anything but overtly polite, but Lillie knew all too well that her mother was a master at hurting people without being seen doing it.

If Lusamine had been wearing Moon’s confidence down…was that why she took a break?

Moon didn’t reply for a long time, just clicked her tongue.

“I guess…I just felt like I wasn’t moving so. I decided to change direction. I guess.”

That…didn’t feel like an answer. Lillie sometimes felt as though she knew Moon better and better by the day, and then sometimes like the woman in front of her was a complete stranger.

“Hey! You said you were thinking about your theme?” Moon said. Lillie stumbled, caught off-guard by the sudden swerve in conversation.

“Y-yes? I have some ideas,” she said.

“Then. Let’s take the day off training and…go somewhere nice to brainstorm,” Moon replied, fishing her phone out of the pocket of her shorts and tapping it awake, “We won’t get the email about which skaters are going to which cup until later today, they’re late. Probably Lusamine pulling strings and trying to get herself put in the cups she’d prefer…”

That sounded like Mother, alright.

“Somewhere nice?” Lillie asked.

“Yeah,” she said, “You…said you haven’t actually gotten many chances to explore Alola, really. We might as well visit somewhere you’ve never been before you go.”

“I – I can’t make a decision like that right this second!”

Moon laughed.

“Sure you can. Name somewhere you’ve never been in Alola.”

“I – uh…I’ve never been to Exeggutor Island.”

Moon’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Mother didn’t really think much of tourist spots,” Lillie muttered.

“Right. Then that’s where we’re going,” she said, grabbing Lillie’s hand and leading her away. Lillie stumbled, almost tripping over Primarina’s tail.

“Now?” she asked, half-laughing, “We’re hardly dressed for a day trip…”

Moon looked over her shoulder, grinning in a way that made Lillie’s heart jump uncomfortably in her chest.

“I don’t think the Exeggutor will mind.”

#

To Lillie’s surprise, Moon neither called a Ride Pokemon, nor summoned her Charizard. Instead they walked through Hau’oli, heading for the ferry. On the way, they stopped a 24-hour convenience store. Moon insisted that they needed a picnic to have on the island. She piled the shopping basket high with brightly coloured fruit, juice, little mochi in crisp clear packets, and a box of mini malasadas. As usual, she pushed Lillie’s hands down when she tried to fetch her purse. She even insisted on buying Lillie her morning tea.

Despite her romanticism, the first ferry of the day to Exeggutor Island wasn’t for an hour.

They sat down in the waiting room, Moon sipping her coffee with one arm laid over the back over the squeaky blue chairs, chatting about everything and nothing. Lillie sat primly in the seat opposite, blowing on her tea to cool it.

She could see herself reflected in Moon’s sunglasses. Messy-haired, wearing a baggy t-shirt, leggings, and chunky trainers designed for exercise rather than fashion.

She looked at Moon, in a big shirt with its bright Alolan pattern tucked into her tiny denim shorts, her hair in messy braids across her shoulders. Her sandals were battered, and the shade of brown somehow managed to clash entirely with the rest of her outfit. Yet even dressed like this Moon looked entirely comfortable, arms sprawled across the back of her chair, ankle resting on her knee. Somehow looking so messy just made her shine brighter.

Nothing about this, Lillie thought, could be more different than the day trips she took with her mother.

#

“Look, Lillie, look!”

Lillie is jerked out of her doze by Moon shaking her shoulder, pointing out the window. Lillie saw land approaching fast, covered in tall, thin trees.

It took Lillie a second to realise the trees were moving. A slow, loping pace that was barely perceptible, until you realise the sway of the trunks was out of time with the wind.

“Oh, they’re…they’re bigger than I expected,” Lillie said, stupidly.

“Yeah, on average they’re about 11 metres tall!” she said, grinning and taking Lillie’s arm in hers, leading her out the door and onto the deck, “Have you never seen one in real life before?”

Lillie shook her head, embarrassed. They were practically her home’s national Pokemon, but she’d only seen them on television or in advertisements. They weren’t exactly suited to the rink, and Aether Paradise was too small to really home them.

“They’re great. My bro trained one for a while, even though that makes no sense because he already had Decidueye –“ She caught Lillie’s puzzled expression. “They’re both grass types. Most people avoid having two of the same type on their team – it’s sort of redundant and opens you up to a massive strategic weakness. But he was a sweetie. Mom was crushed she couldn’t find a way to keep him as a pet. Apparently he’s kind of a tourist attraction in the Safari Zone now though, so that’s nice.”

“The Safari Zone?” she asked, curious. She’d heard of it, vaguely, but all she knew was that it was in Kanto, and it had been involved in saving the Chansey line from extinction twenty-odd years ago.

“Yeah, big park full of exotic or endangered Pokemon in Kanto. You used to be able to catch Pokemon there – still can on odd days – but mostly it’s for preservation and research now,” she explained, and then glanced across at Lillie, “They do tours where you go to see the Dragonite colony. The Dragonair are really pretty, and they tell you some really interesting stuff about how the Dratini line has been represented in history and folklore and stuff. You’d…probably like it.”

“I think I would. In fact, Kanto sounds nice,” Lillie said, smiling, her gaze dropping to the white froth of the sea below. Moon covered the bottom of her face with her hand, her eyes crinkling in a smile.

“Yeah, it is.”

#

Exeggutor Island was bigger than Lillie had anticipated, based on reading about it. They arrived at the port, boasting a tiny gift shop and a small hostel for tourists wishing to stay overnight. There was a café by the beach, a tiny place serving fries and malasada and little else.

“Dang, there’s way more here than when I came as a kid,” Moon commented, putting her sunglasses back on. Lillie squinted out over the horizon. The Exeggutor were all further inland – from what she’d read, they only moved towards the shore at night, so they could sleep rooted in the damp sand and soak up the water and salt they’d need for the next day.

“There isn’t much here at all, I don’t think,” Lillie said. Beyond the sign designating it as a ‘Special Pokemon Preserve’, with the ticket gate by the side, it looked like there was no further human buildings. The rest of the island was given entirely to its Exeggutor inhabitants. There were a few hills, and if Lillie strained her eyes against the harsh sunlight, she was sure she could the small outline of the shrine at the highest point. The island used to be a trial site, a very very long time ago. It was a point of contention what sort of trial and the significance it held in Pre-colonial Alola, though.

Moon was staring at her.

“Uh, sorry, I was spacing out,” she said, embarrassed. Moon glanced aside, mouth twitching.

“You looked more like you were thinking than spacing out,” Moon said. Lillie shook her head, hands clasped.

“Just remembering something I read a long time ago, about theories on this island’s significance in Alola. I used to be quite interested in Alolan history.”

“Used to be?” Moon asked, head cocked.

“I, well. I didn’t really have much time for other things, after a certain point…” she said. It was never something her mother had done deliberately. There had been no dramatic destruction of her books, no rules restricting her from the Aether library. Just her time being slowly choked with skating practice, exercise, studying previous routines. After Gladion left, Lusamine had begun teaching her about business practices and the running of the Aether Foundation as well.

It was odd to think about, how much she used to like that she’d slowly abandoned, just because she was too exhausted to keep up with.

Not for the first time, she really wished she’d carved out more time. She had it, but she wasted it on lying on her phone or daydreaming about rescue or feeling sorry for herself. She should have kept tighter hold of all those things she used to care about.

Moon grabbed her hand.

“C’mon, let’s hike up to the old trial site,” she said, jabbing her thumb up the hill. Lillie smiled at her, a little hesitant, but squeezed her hand back.

Moon insisted on paying at the ticket gate. The ticket seller stamped the back of their hands, little abstract symbols of Exeggutor in dark brown, and handed them a small pamphlet. Rules (catching up to three Exeggutor was fine, but no IV or shiny hunting, and don’t bother any that seemed to be caring for a nest) and a little blurb about the island’s preservation efforts. It was one of the few preservation areas not associated with the Aether Foundation.

“I didn’t know Serperior were seen here…” Lillie muttered.

“Uh-huh. Hau had us looking for one for _ages_ when we were here as kids,” Moon said, shaking her head at the memory, “We never found one. I don’t think you’re even allowed to catch them anymore.”

“It sounds like you really saw all of Alola as kids,” Lillie noted, quashing a twinge of jealousy. Moon swung their hands between them, grinning.

“Well, sorta. As I said, I didn’t finish my challenge properly. After a certain point, I was just kinda tagging along with Sun and Hau,” she said, and then sighed, “Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

“Later on, when Sun was getting _really_ good, like I mean, champion-level good, he had to swoop in to save me when I was in over my head in a battle a couple of times,” she said, twisting her face in disgust, “Total damsel in distress stuff.”

Lillie covered her giggle with the pamphlet.

“I find that really hard to imagine,” she said, and then hesitated for a second, “You’re…one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

Moon went pink and looked away, glancing up at the sky. Lillie followed her gaze – dark clouds were gathering overhead.

“Hey, Lillie…what time does it say it rains here?”

“Sometimes lightly in the morning, but usually heavily from 6pm until midnight…but it’s 1pm now, we should be fine.”

The sky rumbled above and Lillie felt a sting of rain on her cheek.

Moon regarded her sceptically.

“You had to say it, didn’t you?”

The rain began to thrash down more heavily, and Moon tucked the carrier bag of food under her shirt, tightening her grip on Lillie’s hand.

“C’mon, I think there’s a couple of places we can shelter ahead!” she shouted, her sunglasses already covered in water. They ran, ground already growing squishy beneath them. Ducking between the small outcrops of rock, Moon seemed to find what she was looking for – a shelf of rock, a tiny space beneath it.

It was big enough a few kids could shelter in it.

It was just barely big enough for two adult women.

“…Uh…this is a lot smaller than I remember it,” Moon commented. Lillie shook her head.

“I don’t care, I want out of this rain, it’s horrid,” she said, already stooping to crawl in. If they sat on the floor, they could fit, if a bit awkwardly. Moon watched her squeeze in, shivering and squeezing water out of her hair, and crawled in after her.

Sitting next to her, Moon tugged the bag of food out from under her shirt and crammed it in the small space between them.

“Well, the food’s probably…ok,” she said, “Bread’s looking a little soggy.”

She squinted into the bag like it was her worst enemy. Her dark hair was clinging to her cheeks and forehead, as well as to the lenses of her sunglasses.

“So are you,” Lillie said, barely able to keep herself from giggling. Moon jerked up to look at her, expression affronted, and then down at herself.

“You’re one to talk…” she muttered. Lillie laughed, covering her mouth with both hands. It was true, her hair was dripping. She was suddenly grateful she was just in her workout clothes – if she had been wearing something actually nice, it would have been ruined at this point.

“We look like disasters,” Lillie said between giggles. Moon shook her head and unbuttoned her Alolan shirt, shucking it off her shoulders. She was wearing a tank top with a picture of a Kabutops skeleton and a Ranseigo slogan across it.

She started squeezing out her shirt, solidly avoiding Lillie’s eye. Lillie had no idea why – she actually looked uncharacteristically embarrassed. Suddenly, she felt as though she’d made a misstep in teasing her. Perhaps Moon didn’t like to look so…dishevelled in front of what was practically her employee.

Personally, Lillie thought she still looked rather charming. Plus sleeveless tops really – well, they suited her. Best leave it at that.

“Yeah. I can’t imagine Lusamine ever let you run around in the rain before,” Moon muttered, still focusing on her shirt.

Lillie bit her lip.

“She did, once, actually.”

Moon looked up, eyes wide. She probably couldn’t believe it. Lillie didn’t blame her. It was such an old, faded memory at this point, she barely believed it was real herself at this point.

“C’mon,” Moon said after a second, nudging her with her toe, “You have to tell me _that_ story.”

Lillie smiled, resting her chin on her knees.

“Well…did you know I used to love musicals as a child?”

“That does _not_ surprise me,” Moon said, smiling at her fondly. Lillie nudged her to be quiet.

“Well, there was one very old Unovan one I loved a lot. There’s a scene in it where the main character is outside in the rain, singing the biggest number…”

Moon clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Please tell me tiny baby Lillie insisted on trying on recreating it,” she said, absolutely delighted.

Lillie laughed, hiding her face in her hands.

“I did, unfortunately. After I watched it for the first time, as soon as it rained, I went outside with mother’s umbrella and…yes. Tried to do exactly that,” she said, “I wasn’t very good. I’m really not much of a singer, and I was even worse then.”

“I’m guessing Lusamine made sure you had lessons?”

“Oh, yes. She was delighted when she realised Gladion inherited her singing talent…less so when she realised I’d managed to inherit our father’s.”

Moon’s smile flickered. Lillie pushed on with the story before it could drift into sadder waters.

“Anyway, mother rushed out to find me out there. I expected to be in trouble – she was always strict and I was _soaking_ \- but she just laughed and sang and danced with me out there for a while…” she said, “We only came in because Faba scolded us both, saying we’d catch our death of colds.”

She shook her head, remembering how funny it was, watching her beautiful, flawless mother be chastised, hanging her head like a scolded Growlithe.

“Of course, we both did end up sick, but mother let me bundle up with her in bed. Wicke and father both fussed, and we were both dreadfully snotty, but I was _so_ happy. I remember I wouldn’t let her sleep because I wanted to keep spending time with her like that…”

Lillie swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling very tight. That had been such a long, long time ago.

“Of course, then she changed. All the things that were good about her withered, and all her sharp edges seemed to get sharper and sharper every day,” she continued, and felt an arm loop around her shoulders. She let it stay there, Moon’s warm pleasant across her back, and barely dared breathe just in case she was going to take it away.

“Gladion and I…and, well, everyone at Aether Paradise, everyone _around_ my mother, ended up suffering so much. I couldn’t do anything…”

“Of course you couldn’t,” Moon interrupted, tone sharp, “You were just a kid.”

Lillie laughed uncertainly.

“It feels like you could have, if you were there,” Lillie said, hiding a grin in her arm and peeking up at her, “I know this probably sounds a little silly, but I feel like if we’d met back then, everything would be completely different now.”

What if they had met after Lillie’s father died, when Lusamine’s change wasn’t so well-entrenched, when years and years of living like that hadn’t scraped Lillie down to the girl she was now. She wanted to play that game of what-if, but Moon didn’t respond. Instead she stiffened, as though Lillie has stepped hard on a nerve, and retracted her arm.

“It doesn’t look like the rain’s going to stop…” she commented.

“Yes. Um. Perhaps we should just eat here,” Lillie said, wondering what on earth she’s done now. Moon looked back at her, and her expression there for a moment was so _odd_ , but then she smiled again, and Lillie was certain she must have imagined it.

“So…uh. Do you ever want things to go back to the way they were?” Moon asked, “When Lusamine was the type of person to get soaked to make her daughter happy?

“Well. Of course, but…” Lillie said, hesitating, “It’s been a long time. A _decade_ , now. If not longer. I’d love for her to get better, to treat people better, but there’s a _lot_ I would need to forgive her for. So. I don’t know. And that’s not the most important thing to me now.”

She chewed her lip. Why was it that whenever she tried to say something honest, she always felt very silly afterwards? Like she was expecting Moon to scoff or laugh or tell her how she felt was very stupid somehow.

Moon would never, she knew that. Moon was kind and understanding. Yes, she was a bit of a ‘meathead’, and she did a lot of things without thinking, but she would never do anything to hurt her. And, if and when she made a mistake, she would take it seriously when Lillie told her.

She knew that in her head, but in her gut and her heart it was a little less clear.

“Sooo, what is?” Moon asked, propping her cheek on her palm.

“Well,” she said, laughing nervously, “That’s sort of my idea for my theme for this season.”

Moon began to unpack the food, gaze still on Lillie.

“Oh? Do tell.”

Breathing in, Lillie did.

#

Lillie has always gotten nervous around cameras. Logically, she shouldn’t, really. She has always had to deal with microphones being shoved under her nose, the flash of cameras in her eyes, people in lanyards asking her questions she wasn’t equipped to answer. Yet even with all her PR coaching, all the hours her mother spent telling her exactly what to say and how to say it, the sight of a black camera lens settling on her was still enough to make her palms sweaty and fingers tremble.

Considering what she’s about to say into those cameras, she thought, it wasn’t really a surprise she was nervous.

She looked past the crew and equipment to Moon, leaning against the back wall wearing a pair of sunglasses, slurping down a bubble tea. Moon caught her staring and offered a thumbs up.

“Ms Aether, are you ready?” the director asked, “We’ll be going live in a few minutes.”

“I’m prepared, thank you,” she lied, because she would _never_ be prepared for what she was about to do. Not a billion years. The director seemed to take it, smiling, before moving along to chat to the other Alolan women who qualified at globals. Hau was in a different studio, awaiting his opportunity to announce his theme (“Fun” – not very different from anything he’d done in previous years, and Lillie privately thought it didn’t really fit his programmes at all).

The director called for everyone to be read, waving her hand at the camera crew and jotting something down on a notepad. The host took their position, smoothing down their hair. Ready to introduce Lillie and her colleague to the camera, and let them take their turns introducing their theme for the season. Lillie’s felt as though she were sweating through the dense formal dress she’d plucked out of the back of her wardrobe for the occasion, and quietly detested herself for picking out white. The sweat would show. Mother would see it, see her, see her fumble –

No.

She stopped her train of thoughts there. She was doing this, and if there was a patch of sweat there was a patch of sweat, it was too late to do anything about that now.

Clefairy leaned his head against the side of her leg, chirping comfortingly up at her.

“- and now, Lillie Aether will tell us about the theme she has chosen for the upcoming season…” the host said, beaming at her. They stepped aside. Lillie stood, momentarily frozen, and then placed the placard with her theme on the stand. She took the microphone in both of her hands, and breathed in.

“The theme I’ve chosen for this season is ‘Freedom’,” she said, letting that land, taking her time, like she’d been taught, and it was strange to think of her mother’s teachings helping her now, but she ploughed on, determined not to stumble.

“It may surprise some of you to know that I have lived most of my life with no freedom at all. My decisions have always been made by someone else. What I said, what I did, who I was, it was all in the palm of another person. One I’m sure you all know.”

That was off-script, but the ripped murmurs across the reporters and audience sent a thrill through Lillie’s body that made it feel entirely worthwhile.

“Recently, I made a decision to leave that life behind. Yet then I was completely adrift, until –“ She swallowed, mouth dry. “Until I met Moon, and she promised to help me reach the Grand Prix. Since then, I have become a real skater for the first time. I’m no longer just following orders.”

She leaned forward, grip tightening on the microphone, voice becoming stronger.

“I’ve realised what it’s actually like to have freedom! A- and I’m not going to give it up again,” she said, “So this year, I’m going to prove I’m standing on my own feet, right before the person who has been holding me in place.”

She paused for breath, noticing that the host, the other skaters, and the audience were all staring at her, some open-mouthed, others mumbling furiously, many taking notes, and many cameras began to flash. She smiled, shakily.

“I. I hope you’ll all support me over the next season,” she ended weakly, flushing under the applause that followed.

Somewhere, she knew, Lusamine had just watched her make this whole conflict public.

This would spell trouble for her mother, for her skating career, even the entire Aether Corporation.

Even with that in mind, Lillie couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever think about how like. Singing in the Rain, Stand By Me, and the Wizard of Oz all canonically exist as movies in the Pokémon world? I am absolutely dying to know what those alternate versions are like.


End file.
